


Feathers calling Instincts

by dragoneyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous Semi-Canon Timeframe, Canon-Typical Violence, Creepy Fluff, Feral Behavior, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, Wingfic, creepy humor, feral Angel on animal violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoneyes/pseuds/dragoneyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is why, when their resident guardian angel was neutralized and kidnapped by what looked like a group of New Satanists wannabes, Dean was not only far-more-than-marginally irritated but had also no trouble in realizing that, given the relative luck that had seemed to bless them in the last few months, if they didn't do anything to stop it as soon as possible, he and Sam were going to have on their hands a problem of the third kind the like of which they'd never witnessed before.</p>
<p>Required ritual sacrifice to summon the umpteen forgotten deity plus nerdy angel in distress? With their luck it was probably going to jump-start the next New Apocalypse on Earth. Not a problem in itself - they were basically the Jedi Masters of stopping the 'End of the World as we know it' by now - but Dean would find himself with one socially awkward angel less hovering over his shoulder and he simply could not allow <i>that</i> to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is not a lucky angel.

There are several things that Dean Winchester has learned during his – admittedly long – experience as a hunter.

> 1\. Never trust a demon.
> 
> 2\. Never trust an angel unless they're of the nerdy variety – and even in that case you still need to keep an eye out for them not to Jump Off the Slippery Slope in a misguided attempt to fix everything going wrong around them at the same time.
> 
> 3\. The likelihood of ritual sacrifices to go right is inversely proportional to the power and rarity of the being needed to be sacrificed.

Luckily for them, when it came to most of their hunts, none of the three were particularly relevant nowadays, what with demons being somewhat less bitchy and invasive since Crowley had become the head of the new management of Hell and with angels finally – _finally –_ deciding to stick their noses only in their own businesses after Raphael had gone bye bye in a burst of dead sparkles in consequence of one slightly irritated soul-powered Godstiel.

Even human psychopaths had seemed to give up on trying to gain eternal life by knifing virgins and making deals with pagan gods that clearly weren't to be trusted unless you planned to gank them on the spot, as soon as they showed up at your front door.

This is why, when their resident guardian angel was neutralized and kidnapped by what looked like a group of New Satanists wannabes, Dean was not only far-more-than-marginally irritated but had also no trouble in realizing that, given the relative luck that had seemed to bless them in the last few months, if they didn't do anything to stop it as soon as possible, he and Sam were going to have on their hands a problem of the third kind the like of which they'd never witnessed before.

Required ritual sacrifice to summon the umpteen forgotten deity plus nerdy angel in distress? With their luck it was probably going to jump-start the next New Apocalypse on Earth. Not a problem in itself - they were basically the Jedi Masters of stopping the 'End of the World as we know it' by now - but Dean would find himself with one socially awkward angel less hovering over his shoulder and he simply could not allow _that_ to happen.

So when he and his brother burst into the Dudes-in-Incredibly-Clichè-Red-Hoods' den, guns blazing, he was relatively relieved to see Cas still alive, if not slightly drugged – judging by the lack of responses to their admittedly pretty cool entrance – and kind of bound to a makeshift sacrificial altar – and seriously, did every Dark Cult Club buy them at Wall Mart? Because he was sure he had seen that one before…

"Let the angel go!" he shouted at the one standing over Cas with a book in his hands as he recited the incantation to summon Bitch-Deity #27, shotgun pointed at the cultist's head, only to receive a scornful laugh that would make any Disney villain envious.

"Fools! You cannot stop us!" the man replied, completely ignoring the threat before him while he continued "You are but a puny mortal! We are the followers of…" he ducked with a yelp when Dean decided that he sincerely didn't give a damn about knowing the name of the Monster of the Week and shot in his direction without a single trace of hesitation.

From the corner of his eye he saw the other mooks scramble for cover but he didn't pay them much thought.

"I said: LET. THE. ANGEL. GO!" he shouted again instead, punctuating every word in case the guy had trouble understanding English – and wasn't it somewhat satisfying when even his own brother turned his startled gaze in his direction with a "Dude, wha--..." only to cut himself off and bring back his focus on the bewildered spectators in front of them?

Ah, Dean was a badass.

"Do not underestimate us!" was the slightly high pitched reply that he received from the man now wisely crouched behind the altar, keeping it between himself and the trigger-happy hunter with a shotgun in front of him "The ritual has already begun! I just have to recited the last few lines and it will be completed!"

"Well, thank you for the heads-up, Red Riding Hood, I'll be sure to shoot you in the head before that happens!" growled Dean in return, taking a step closer to the altar.

He'd almost made it around it when the faceless mooks seemed to finally recover themselves from their careful scrutiny from behind the safety of the local furniture and jumped on both him and Sam at the same time.

The hunters' weapons disappeared somewhere in the brawl that followed and the two brothers were subdued by the sheer number of their enemies. They found their arms twisted behind their backs and pointy knives poking at their backs as another Disney-villainesque laugh rang through the room, coming from Red Riding Hood.

"Fools! You cannot stop us!" he repeated and Dean kind of felt the need to break his nose because, seriously, fuck you, lousy boss who hadn't even moved one finger to help his mindless drone underlings!

When he saw his expression, Red Riding Hood grinned victoriously at him in return, to then launched himself into a litany of words that Dean was pretty sure to be some weird variation of Enochian and that – if not everything else – was the last confirmation that the hunter needed to be sure that the whole thing was going to blow up in their face.

It was with barely-repressed glee that Red Riding Hood finished his chanting and was rewarded by the sight of the unconscious angel sharply arching his back as his face twisted in what was obvious pain. The lean, shirtless body trembled, his feet curled as they scraped at the edge of the makeshift altar, forbidden to do anything else by the sigils that bound him to the surface.

"Cas!" Dean heard his brother gasp but he himself could do nothing if not watch the scene, his mind completely lost in some form of morbid fascination at the sight before him. He let his gaze trail down the angel's pained expression, taking in the screwed eyes and clenched teeth, to then move lower on the neck and reaching the pale chest glistening with sweat that hadn't been there only a few minute before.

He was so captured by that sight that made his insides coil and twist into a churning ball of rage, that he almost jumped when the angel's eyes suddenly shoot open and a screeching, inhuman sound left his throat.

Another laugh left the man hovering next to the altar only to be suddenly cut off midway when a choked sound came from the same direction.

"What?" the confusion in Red Riding Hood's voice was evident and immediately Dean's hunter instinct seemed to react at the potentiality of taking the upper hand again: his gaze snapped up to the man's face and he saw it contract into a frown.

"What is this…" the man hissed "This shouldn't be…"

Uh? That couldn't possibly be a good sign.

When a new, louder screech thundered through the room, it eerily reminded Dean of an episode happened when he had been younger and still hunting with his father.

They'd been scouting the outer edge of a woods which supposedly had been the cozy home of a pack of definitely-unfriendly werewolves, passing the whole morning setting traps in prevision of that night's full moon. They'd both been about to go back to the motel they'd been staying at when, out of nowhere a sudden, high pitched bird call had rung through the air and, a big, breath-taking eagle had dived down from the sky like a feathered and deadly bullet, catching without effort a hare that had been hiding in a patch of tall grass at not more than a few feet from them.

It was disconcerting hearing now the same sound coming out of the human throat of his angel's vessel.

When he lowered his gaze again on the figure sprawled on the altar, he felt the beginning of a shiver make its way up his back as a soft "shit!" flew past his lips without him realizing it: Castiel's teeth were still clenched in pain, except Dean was pretty sure that there were fangs now that hadn't been there before, his body was taut with the strain caused by the inability to freely move due to the sigils keeping him bound and his eyes were still wide open and fixed on the ceiling above them, the far too familiar white light of his grace dancing just behind them and threatening to get loose.

Dean wondered for an instant if he should shut his eyes before the angel decided that his vessel was too confining and everyone's sight went to its bloody merry-land, but just a second later the brightness seemed to subside until it finally vanished. The hunter would have let out a sigh of relief if not for the fact that, together with the dimming of his grace, Castiel's body had gone limp, his gaze unfocused and his breath slowing just a bit, becoming a kind of soft panting sound in the background.

No-one moved or said anything as Dean let his gaze move up and down the other's body in the feverish attempt to make sure that he was all right - or as all right as he could be given the situation.

The angel took a deep breath, then another, and then his head slowly turned to fix half-lidded eyes in the hunter's gaze. A soft, almost quiet sound, like a bird calling for their family members to get back to the nest, reached his ears and then he watched with growing dread as something went very, very wrong with his best friend's body.

At first Dean thought he was just seeing things due to experiencing, not more than a handful of moments before, the most stressful minutes he'd the pleasure of withstanding in his life, then he watched as feathers - actual, honest to God, black feathers! - began to sprout out of the back of Castiel's neck. Slowly at first, but then, after what looked like a moment of hesitation on their part, spreading further and further down his spine, part of them splitting their trail to cover the back of the angel's shoulders and upper arms.

"Cas?" he couldn't help but call again and the angel let out another short, high-pitched peep before a pair of big - freaking huge! - feathered wings surged out from underneath his body, awkwardly trying to flap their way in a more comfortable position from the one they were forced in by the binding sigils painted on the sides of the altar.

Castiel's blue gaze was fixed into Dean's green eyes, in a silent plea for help and the hunter felt his chest clench at that sight.

Then, suddenly, something seemed to snap in the angel and his head turned sharply to stare unblinkingly at the hooded man still standing next to him. Another loud, eagle-like screech of threat left his mouth and he abruptly tried to throw himself at at the other, the long, dangerous claws that had grown out in his nails' place clearly targeting the other's throat.

With a startled yelp Red Riding Hood pulled himself at a safer distance, his eyes wide in panic.

"This shouldn't have happened!" he began to say, gaze darting back and forth between Castiel, still staring at him like a giant, pissed off bird of prey, and the book in his hands "He should have fallen! What is this?!"

The man's urgency was what finally snapped both Dean and Sam from the horrified state of fascination in which they'd been lingering: seeing that Red Riding Hood's underlings were as confused as their leader was, most of them keeping their attention on the obviously-far-from-harmless _thing_ currently staring back at them like they were only slightly overgrown, delicious rabbits, the two brothers sprang into action, disarming the ones nearest to them and prompting the remaining ones into finally falling to the part of their brains that was cheering for them to make a run for it.

Soon only their leader remained in the room - so much for loyalty! - but, as soon as he saw Dean stare back at him and he realized the situation he was in, he made quick use of his lean frame and dashed toward one of the exists, the book in his hands promptly dropped on the floor in the hope that the two hunters would be too busy with both it and the angel to go after him.

For a couple of instants Dean actually considered going after him, but then his attention was caught again by a questioning chirp and he decided that getting their hands on the godforsaken book that had been the cause of all this was good enough for now.

From the corner of his eye he made sure that Sam picked up the tome from the floor and then he moved his gaze back on the angel sprawled on the altar: his wings were still folded in an awkward angle that ought to be anything but comfortable and his blue eyes were peering back at the two brothers in a way that was eerily reminiscent of a howl.

None of them moved for several instants.

It was the younger Winchester that finally broke the silence in the room by taking a couple of careful steps in the angel's direction, slowly, as if trying not to spook a wild animal.

"Cas?" he called, his voice soft and friendly, almost encouraging "Do you recognize us? It's Dean and Sam…" he took another step toward their friend and suddenly a pair of impossibly blue orbs was only fixed on him.  
Castiel narrowed his eyes and a high pitched hiss left his lips in a clear warning.

"It's ok, Cas" the younger hunter slowly said, moving closer and closer, an inch at a time "We aren't going to harm you" he said, quickly catching his brother's gaze. Dean understood what his brother wanted and he began to carefully shrink the distance between him and the angel still trapped on the altar.

"We're your friends, Cas" Sam continued until they both were at less than a foot away from the other.

The angel was looking back at them, studying their faces like it was trying to understand what they exactly wanted from him, but he seemed calm and subdued enough for now. The two hunters shared another quick glance and, when Dean nodded at his brother's silent query, Sam took one of the abandoned knife from the ground and began to scrape the sigils out of one the altar's side.

The look of alarm in Castiel's gaze at the sight of the blade would have almost been endearing if not for the fact that, as soon as he realized he could now freely move, he launched himself at the younger Winchester, fangs snapping at only a couple of inches from Sam's wrists, who had to thanks his stumbling loss of balance if he could still say to have his right hand firmly attached to his body: he might have fallen on his ass, but at least he was still in one piece.

"Fuck! Cas!" before the angel could decide to jump again on his brother, Dean was quick to grab him from behind, his arms locking underneath the other's armpits as he tried his best not to eat a handful of feathers from the dark wings now flapping wildly in an attempt to get free from his hold.

"Goddammit, Cas! No-one's trying to kill anyone here!" he instinctively shout in spite of the fact that the angel's ear was just a handful of inches away from his mouth. Castiel's head snapped back at his words, a hiss leaving his lips even before he'd completely turned. Blue eyes met green eyes again, and Dean braced himself for what was going to happen next.

Except nothing happened and he only blinked in confusion when the angel seemed to suddenly lose all the tension that had him so wound up so far. Another, soft chirping sound left his throat and then the angel twisted around in his capturer's hold.

"Uh…" suddenly Dean felt very aware of the fact that he'd a not-entirely-in-his-right-mind angel pressed flushed against his body, and his traitorous gaze instinctively moved to stare at Castiel's mouth when the latter let out another satisfied chirp.

The next thing he knew, a pair of hot lips were pressed against his own and an even hotter tongue tried to stake claim over the inside of his mouth. He froze for several instants because, fuck, Castiel was kissing him. Freaking _Castiel_ was _kissing_ him. And it shouldn't be this hot, especially not with those weird and needy, bird-like sounds he was letting out, but the fangs slightly sinking in his lips and the lustful – fuck, since when 'Cas' and 'lustful' were acceptable in the same sentence? – light in the angel's eyes were doing wonders to shut down every remaining working neuron inside his head.

Then his lower brain seemed to finally catch up with the program, making him eagerly answered to the kiss, trying to gain back its control before his head could decide that it was probably a very bad idea to continue down that line.

A keening whistle left the angel and his wings folded behind the hunter's back to pull him closer, brushing some of the black, soft feathers he was so proud of against Dean's cheeks in an affectionate gesture.

When Castiel finally pulled back a little, just enough to part their mouths, Dean realized that his heart was wildly pounding in his chest in a way that was both delicious and terrifying at the same time because, while he was not one to refuse any such action when properly prompted, this was the first time that he'd ever been this worked up by a simple kiss. He could still feel the other's wings pressing gently against his back, and the look of complete trust in those blue eyes in front of him were making a very funny, fluttery feeling emerge somewhere inside his lower belly.

"Dude, I didn't need to see that!" bless Sam and the Bitch Face #13 – the one reserved to those times in which the other hunter had the misfortune of walking in on his brother having sex - currently being sent in their way, because suddenly Dean was embarrassingly aware of what he'd just done and he promptly pulled away from Castiel's weird, feathery hug.

"Fuck you!" he instinctively threw back in Sam's direction, deciding that the best course of action was to try and ignore what had just happened.

"Dude, I'm pretty sure that the only one here wanting to fuck anyone is your angel there" and really, fuck you again, Sammy, because Dean didn't need to have THAT image planted into his head now.

It really didn't help that the loud chirp which left Castiel at those words sounded far eagerer than it had any right to be.

He turned his gaze back on the angel, trying his best to copy one of his brother's bitch faces, but the other only replied by flapping his wings a couple of times and promptly spinning around where he was standing, as if showing off his plumage to a reticent female.

Fuck his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel makes a nest.

There are times in which Dean wonders if the hunter lifestyle he's been accustomed to since his early childhood hasn't by now completely screwed over his common sense.

For instance: a couple of weeks before the whole Red Riding Hood pseudo-cult had decided to not only catch the Idiot Ball, but also to practically squeeze it into almost oblivion in attempt to keep it for themselves, the older Winchester had found himself facing alone the usual vengeful spirit while Sam ran his ass around trying to find its place of burial.

Mentioned malevolent manifestation had apparently a thing against men, specifically of the very-sexually-active variety, which Dean fitted pretty well. In fact, that had been the whole reason why he had decided to act as bait while his brother took care of the ghost's remains. What both of them had not realized at the time, however, was that this particular brand of vengeful spirit was a little too keen to 'get physical' with their victims and had a tendency to jump them before actually satisfy their killing tendencies.

Usually, when facing what was for all reasons and purposes a rapist ghost, the first reaction that the average person would have is 'oh, fuck no' and promptly try to get their ass as far away from it as possible. Of course, being it the most reasonable reaction to have, given the situation at hand, it was _not_ what passed through Dean's mind at the time.

What passed through his mind was something that would make him earn from Sam the infamous Bitch Face #17 – the 'I'm Judging You And I Don't Like What You're Trying To Tell Me, Please Desist Before I'm Morally Obliged To Physically Castrate My Own Brother' version.

So yeah, Dean was pretty sure that, all things considered, his common sense had pretty much decided to go on a lifelong tour around the world many, many years ago.

Nothing new and nothing that he was going to cry over anytime soon, but it now kind of begged the question: why was it that his brain was more keen - almost eager because, hey, he hadn't tried _that_ yet - to have sex with a ghost than it was to stop feeling fucking creeped out by the way Castiel was currently tilting his head at an impossible angle and staring at him unblinkingly like he was some kind of prey to be hunt?

Dean was used to be the target of far worse, more violent stuff – heck, he'd faced Lucifer _and_ Michael without losing a beat – but the way the other angel kept following his every move from his makeshift perch – the back of a chair, the freaking back of a freaking chair, how was he even able to balance his body there with those huge wings weighing him down?! - was beginning to make him feel slightly paranoid for the safety of his virtue.

Ok, maybe there was not much virtue left to be saved there, but that didn't mean he wouldn't want to get at least a "hey, handsome, want to fuck?" before actually doing the deed. He was not a romantic person by nature, but surely wanting to be at least considered like a proper human being was a reasonable explanation to why he kept leaving at least a few feet of distance between him and his friend, right?

It wasn't like he hadn't noticed before how damn pretty his angel was, or how small he looked without his trenchcoat and the upper half of his suit on, or how the addition of those black, fluffy feathers now framing his face seemed to make his blue eyes gleam in a predatory way that was all manners of hot...but that still didn't mean he would let the guy jump him that easily!

Not to mention the fact that the angel seemed perfectly content with just staring from afar for now...

"So!" he decided to try and get his head distracted from the pair of blue eyes still fixed on him – and if his voice squeaked a little, he was going to deny it even in his deathbed - "Found anything?" he asked, turning his gaze on his brother currently studying the book that was the primary cause of all that mess.

"Not really" Sam commented with a frustrated sigh "It's not like I'm going to find what we're searching for in the ten minutes between now and the last time you asked" his brother had been bugging him almost constantly for the last hour and he was beginning to feel the need to tell him to go take a walk because, seriously, he couldn't work like that.

"Hey, I was just checking" the older Winchester replied, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Dean, I already told you that I'm not going to find anything anytime soon" Sam sighed a second time "It would be difficult enough to translate everything and find out what exactly went wrong with the spell if it were standard Enochian, but this looks like some form of dialect the like of which we've never come around before. It _will_ take time, _if_ there even is a solution at all!"

"Come on, Sammy, there must be some kind of counterspell or something..." tried Dean as he peered at their angelic friend from the corner of his eye: Castiel was still quietly watching him from his unstable perch, head tilted on one side and unblinking eyes firmly set on him. Since they'd returned to their motel room, he hadn't made a sound and the older Winchester supposed he should be thankful enough that the other had understood to reach them inside through Angel Express to avoid being seen – because, fine, people might be used to ignore weird things even when they happened under their noses, but a feathered, giant-winged human was probably a bit too much for anyone – but the constant staring was turning him into a bundle of nerves.

Ugh, this was becoming creepy again...

He turned to make sure again that the angel was still at a proper distance from him only to find that the chair which had been used as a perch so far had been vacated at some point.

"Cas?" he called, turning around when he heard the distinctive rustling of fabrics being moved around: the angel had apparently moved to Dean's bed and was now...pulling at its sheets? What?

With a frown he watched as Castiel disentangled the covers and promptly began to gather them in a semi-circular heap, moving and poking them around to his satisfaction. When he finished he seemed to study the result for several instants and then promptly grabbed the pillow resting nearby to add that too in the mass of crumpled fabrics.

"Dude...are you making a nest on my bed?" Dean groaned when he understood what was going on. He could see from the corner of his eye that even his brother had stopped what he was doing to watch the scene with a somewhat amused expression on his face. Bitch.

Castiel didn't seem to mind the query directed in his way, and only spared him a glance before returning to moving around the sheets a little more.

When he finally seemed to be fully satisfied with the result he nodded to himself and then promptly went back to stare at Dean with expectation, as if he were waiting for him to say or do something on the matter.

"Dude, what?" the hunter asked, feeling his body automatically tense under that unreadable gaze. Castiel opened his mouth as if to say something – or make another one of those weird high-pitched calls that kind of reminded him of some kind of bird of prey – but closed it again without a sound. For several instants he remained completely still where he was, until Dean noticed him patting the bed next to him, right in the middle of the amassed covers.

"I think he made the nest for you" Sam commented. His older brother could almost hear the repressed laughter hidden somewhere in there and was about to tell him to cut it out because it wasn't funny, only to outright groan when the other specified "To woo you"

"You must be fucking kidding me..." he grumbled, moving his gaze back on the angel still expectedly staring at him. A short bird-like whistle left him and his wings opened slightly as if to try and attract Dean's attention.

"Dude, no, I'm not coming there!" he resolutely stated, trying to ignore both the fact that his bitch of a younger brother had just burst out laughing at his words and the frown making its appearance on the angel's face. Another whistle followed but Dean refused to move from where he was standing: this was just ridiculous, he wasn't a freaking female bird in search of a mate!

The frown on Castiel's face only seemed to grow deeper the more he stared back at him, until his head snapped to the side and the angel spread his wings to swiftly jump to the floor and promptly began to pull at the sheets of the other bed in the room with the intention of adding them to the pile: obviously in that feathered-brain of his the only way to make Dean accept his nest was to make it even more comfortable than before.

"Oh, come on!" the younger hunter sighed at the scene before him "I need that! Dean, just accept his gift already, before he starts tearing down the whole room in order to make you the perfect egg-laying spot"

A grimace formed on the older Winchester's face at those words because _gross_! Not only his baby brother kept implying things between him and Castiel that were better left unimplied for everyone's sake – and especially the one of his mind – but...eggs?! That was reaching the rock bottom of the kinkdom even for his standards!

"Fuck you, Sammy, I didn't need that image in my head" he groaned in the end, wondering if anyone had managed to come up with the formula for that brain bleach so far. The only answer he got for that was another bout of amused laughing before the other hunter decided to go back to studying the book laying on the table in front of him.

Dean allowed himself to send a glare in his direction and then turned to watch with a sigh as Castiel finally managed to snatch some covers from Sam's bed: he really shouldn't intervene - his brother sure didn't deserve to sleep comfortably after he'd shown in multiple instances how amusing he found the whole situation - but the angel was using _his_ bed for the base of the nest and Dean was going to kind of need that at some point.

Taking a couple of steps in the direction of his feral friend, he saw Castiel raise his head to watch him intently. A soft, questioning chirp left his mouth and Dean had to suppress the urge to reach out and pat him on the head, letting his fingers trail through the mass of feathers covering the back of his neck. He wondered for an instant if they were as soft as they looked, but he quickly squished down that line of thinking when his attention was caught by the feeling of tugging at one of his sleeves.

Lowering his gaze, he saw one of his friend's clawed hands gently pulling at the fabric of his shirt while another prompting chirp reached his ears, and the hunter decided that he might as well get this over with. He crawled on the bed next to the angel and sat cross-legged in the smack middle of the makeshift nest.

"Happy now, oh feathered overlord?" he snorted and then watched with a bit of wariness how Castiel began to circle him on the bed, his wings flapping every now and then to help him keep his balance in the little free space still available. He still didn't know how much of his friend's mind was in control of his body and the idea that he could turn on them at any minute made him unconsciously tense.

As much as he didn't want to get maimed by the angel's impressive claws, he didn't really want to be forced to arm him either: so far Castiel hadn't shown any kind of his usual level of angelic mojo aside from his flight – which kind of made sense for him to retain, seeing as he still had his wings – and the hunter wasn't entirely sure that the other would be able to heal properly if they ended up landing a good hit on him. He would rather avoid any kind of confrontation altogether, at least until they found out what exactly had been done to him.

Luckly for him, the angel seemed perfectly content and relaxed at the moment, so Dean supposed that, even if the other was only working on instincts right now, he and Sammy weren't in any kind of immediate danger.

A questioning chirp brought him back from his internal musing, and he turned his head to stare at his friend now crouched behind him, wings neatly folded against his back and head tilted to the side as if he were waiting for something.

"Dude, I don't speak bird" Dean commented with a frown that was mirrored on the angel's face as soon as those words left his mouth. When he saw the other move closer, the hunter instinctively tried to pull further away from him only to find his hand slipping on the edge of the bed and his balance giving up under his weight. He braced himself for an embarrassing fall on the floor only to find, an instant later, that his arm had been quickly grabbed by a clawed hand and his whole body hauled against the angel's, back against the other's chest. A pair of arms had sneaked around him to keep him in a solid embrace as a worried peep was directed at him.

"Yeah, thanks..." he blinked, peering at the feather-framed face looking back at him, before trying to pull away. Instantly the hold around his chest tightened and a hissing whistle left the angel's pale – kissable – lips.

"Cas, seriously, let go!" Dean tried again "This is a whole new level of awkward!" only for the whistle to grow stronger. A pair of blue eyes narrowed in warning and his grasp on him only became tighter, so much so that he could feel the tips of those claws poking at his ribs. The message was clear, _stay where you are, you're not allowed to move until I say so_ , and while normally Dean would consider that even more of a reason to fight back, this time he could only swallow as two intense blue orbs tried to bore holes into his skull through his eyes.

"Should I leave you two alone?" Sam commented, half-amused and half-annoyed. When the older hunter moved his gaze on his brother, he found that the latter was staring back at them, an eyebrow arched high on his forehead, his expression like one he would have if it'd been frozen somewhere in the middle between a smirk and a grimace.

"Don't you dare, Sammy--!" was the protest that immediately began to bubble out of Dean's mouth only to be interrupted by a high-pitched, somewhat-threatening sound coming from behind him. He made move to turn around and take a look at the angel still embracing him only to see a pair of huge, black wings wrap around them, screening them away from Sam's sight. A warm breath brushed against his neck and soon Dean found the other's face nuzzling against his skin with affection.

"Cas..." he called only to feel fingers trailing through his hair, moving locks around as if they were trying to give it some form of order. He was about to tell him again to stop because, seriously, awkward, when the tip of a claw brushed down the back of his neck, sending a small shiver down his body.

"Cas?" he tried again, turning his head and locking his gaze with the other's blue eyes, but he received no immediate answer. Then, slowly, the angel snuggled closer so that Dean was comfortably sprawled against his chest, sitting between his legs, and rested his head on the hunter's shoulder, closing his eyes with a content sigh.

Uh, ok, cuddles. Dean could do cuddles. His brother was going to never let him live it down, but he could do cuddles.

He felt the feathers sprouting from the sides of Castiel's face brush against his cheek and yes, they were exactly as soft as they looked. Again his gaze moved on the other's lips and again he'd to squash down that weird fluttering feeling in his belly that had been coming up at the most inappropriate moments since the other had grown visible – fluffy, soft, black, gorgeous – wings.

After trying again a last half-hearted attempt to squirm away from his friend's hold without any kind of success, he finally gave up and closed his eyes, letting his head tilt to rest against the angel's: if he'd to stay there then he might as well take advantage of those soft – attractive – feathers.

When he felt Castiel cuddle closer, he was sure that the other didn't mind at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel goes on a hunt.

Dean sighed loudly once they were back outside and he heard the sound of the door closing behind them. He peered at his brother to silently ask for his opinion while they moved toward the Impala, but the other only shrugged in return.

The old lady in the house had been nice enough, she had even offered them some pie – which, admittedly, had been pretty awesome – but they hadn't really got any kind of useful info from her.

"So, who's next on the list?" Dean asked once they were comfortably sitting inside the car. Sam took out a small stack of papers and shuffled through it until he seemed to find what he was searching for.

"Danneel Ross, she was the fiancée of the third victim" he explained "She told the police that he always went jogging in the morning near the woods and then passed by her house to change and go to work" he let his eyes skim through the lines of words as he continued "but last week he missed one of their appointments, she got worried and called 911. The guy was found dead in the woods a couple of hours later"

"Same as the others?" Dean asked, glancing in his direction and Sam nodded in reply.

"Heart and lungs eaten out and marks of animal fangs and claws everywhere" he confirmed.

After the whole mess with Castiel and his newfound feathery self, and after a considerable lack of help from the book that had caused the whole thing to begin with, a call had arrived from Bobby letting them know that there was a potential case going on near where they were staying: apparently, over the course of a couple of weeks, five people had been found dead, all of which seemingly attacked by some kind of wild animal and all of which presenting the same wounds. The locals were convinced it was some mountain lion or something similar, but both Dean and Sam knew better than to think an animal would let the prize of an adult body behind in favor of just limiting themselves to eat two specific pieces of it.

So they'd taken off that same morning, somewhat managing to make Castiel understand that yes, he should follow them, but he had to stay hidden and appear only in presence of Dean and Sam – they really didn't need for people to begin noticing a weird, semi-feral half-naked feathered humanoid walking around the streets with everything that was already going on in that town.

"It still sounds like a werewolf" Dean commented.

"Except, werewolves only go for the heart and this one's definitely been working out of lunar schedule" replied Sam with a frustrated sigh.

"It might be an old one, some of them can control the shifting" Dean commented in return "Or it could be the usual kind of ritual sacrifice. Maybe a witch."

"I don't know, Dean, maybe it's something we haven't encountered yet" Sam shrugged: they really didn't have enough clues for now to reach a definite answer about what they were going after.

"Well, you can be sure it won't be doing whatever he wants for long" stated the older hunter as he pulled over and parked near their destination.

Danneel Ross was a young woman in her mid twenties, long black hair and pretty dark eyes, the sweet features of her face muted by the sorrow that she was still obviously trying to deal with.

She voiced no issue with the fact that she was being interrogated again about what had happened and Sam could see that her submissiveness was probably due to the fact that she was still learning to cope with the loss of her lover.

"I'm sorry, I already told everything to the police…" she said quietly as she put down on the table the two cups of coffee she'd made for them "I didn't even see him that morning...he was supposed to come later but…" her hands trembled and the younger hunter leaned closer, knowing that if they wanted to continue the conversation he had to at least make her regain some form of composure.

"We understand it must be very painful for you, Miss Ross" he said, his voice soft and encouraging as he sent a meaningful glance in his brother's direction "We just want to make sure not to miss any detail"

The woman seemed to take in those words for several moments before nodding and finally sitting on a nearby chair, looking a bit less ready to bolt.

"Could you tell us if you noticed anything strange in the last few weeks?" Sam asked, knowing that when it came to use a bit of tact it was up to him to lead those kind of interviews: as much as he loved his brother, Dean had a tendency to say things he really shouldn't at the worse times, especially when it came to talking to traumatized women whose lover had been just mauled by a suspected supernatural creature. His brother kept saying that it was because he was a chick at heart, the jerk.

"I'm not sure…" the woman replied with hesitation "I mean, aside from the other deaths...sure we'd some attacks from wild animals once or twice a year but it has never been like this before…"

Dean let half of his mind trail off as he listened the conversation going on only with part of his attention, his eyes discreetly wandering around to study the room: nothing seemed out of ordinary, but then again they didn't have any reason to suspect her to begin with, it was more a habit on his part: they'd had their fair share of lunatic witch girlfriends, and by now he knew that he'd rather be too carful than missing a clue and leaving a homicidal maniac on the road.

His gaze swept the room, taking in the simple yet practical furniture and the handful of vases filled with colorful flowers that seemed to be the owner's standard decoration of choice. A few pictures hanged on the far off wall behind the victim's fiancée and Dean had been about to stand in order to take a closer look when a movement outside the nearby window caught his attention.

At first he was sure he'd imagined it, that it probably had just been one of those crows that seemed to be everywhere in that town, but, when his attention fully focused on nearest tree in the garden outside, he saw it clearly: the bottom half of two familiar black – huge – wings had just passed in front of the window as their owner climbed further up the trunk and hid in the thick foliage.

Dean's body immediately went on alert, tensing at the knowledge that his very not-in-his-right-mind, very monster-looking best friend was apparently taking a stroll in spite of all the warnings he and Sam had tried to give him on the matter of being seen by other people. He turned his gaze to his brother, trying to understand if he too had noticed what was going on, but no, he was still busy questioning the woman in front of them.

With as much discretion as possible he slowly reached out to pinch the Sam's side, finally gaining his attention and, when he was sent a frowning glance, he mouthed a silent 'Cas' in his direction. The look of pure horror that dawned for a fraction of a second on his brother's face before he could recollect himself would have been hilarious if not for the fact that they both needed to get the hell out of there right that instant.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Ross" Sam quickly said as they both began to stand "we will let you know if there are any news"

They only waited for the woman to nod in understanding before they both bolted out of the house.

"Seriously, dude, 'Cas'?!" Sam asked as soon as the door closed behind them, following Dean as he moved around the garden in the direction of where he'd last seen their common friend.

"I saw his goddamn wings!" the older hunter replied in a hiss while they reached their destination and peered up the tree, swearing when he saw nothing out of the ordinary: from that position it was easier to see through the foliage and it was obvious that no-one was hiding there now.

For an instant he glanced around, trying to understand if Castiel had just changed his position, but he ended up seeing nothing out of the ordinary: everything gave off the air of an average, placid, well-cared-for garden in the smack middle of a monster-haunted town and he briefly wondered if he'd just become more paranoid than usual since the angel had undergone his transformation and he was beginning to hallucinate him.

He was about to give out a frustrated sound and dismiss everything as his eyes playing tricks on him when he noticed what looked like a big, black feather sticking out of a bush of dandelions.

"Goddamit, Cas..." he groaned as he moved closer to snatch it away. Better avoid leaving part of his angel around: for all he knew, they could explode at any given time and be used as weapons of mass destruction.

"Dean..." the sudden, startled call from his brother made him snap his head in the other's direction: Sam was standing a couple of feet toward the gate, head raised and eyes wide as he stared at the roof of the nearby house. A cold shiver ran down Dean's spine even before he followed his brother's gaze, because he knew – he _knew_ – that what had caught his attention had to be a pair of huge wings and their owner merrily frolicking around without a worry in the world.

As expected, Castiel was currently crouched low against the roof, wings tightly folded behind his back as if he were trying to make himself as unconspicuous as possible, and claws from both his hands and feet solidly sunk into the tiles underneath him. He was moving on all fours in a way that shouldn't have been possible for anyone in possession of a human-shaped body and Dean would have called to catch his attention, except that he couldn't make his mind wrap itself around how foreign the angel's movements looked.

It was the sudden sound of a dog barking from one of the nearby houses that finally snapped him out of his daze.

"Shit!" he hissed as he darted in the street, closely followed by his brother, and was thankful that at least no-one seemed to be around: with the sun setting down, most of the neighborhood had gone back inside to their families for dinner. He kept his gaze on the angel – who looked perfectly content to just watch the scenary from above for now – as they moved closer and once he made sure again that they were indeed alone, he tried to call for him.

"Cas!"

For an instant he wondered if the other would even notice his presence – his predictability had been pretty much thrown out of the window together with his ability to speak proper English, and Dean wasn't entirely sure how far up the angel's list of priorities he was right now – but, against all odds, Castiel's head snapped in their direction upon hearing the sound of his voice and his attention immediately focused on the two Winchester.

As soon as he met Dean's gaze, even from a distance, his whole demeanor seemed to brighten up and a huge smile full of fangs made its way on his face before he spread his wings and gave a loud whistle in greetings.

"Dean, we need to get him out of here..." Sam said urgently, eyes darting around to make sure that they were still alone in the street.

"I know" his older brother replied before focusing again on the angel "Cas, keep your eyes on me" he ordered as he began to move, one step at a time, toward him: there was a small and mostly out-of-sight alley between the house on which his friend was currently perched and the next one, so if he could just make him jump down there somehow...

He didn't dare to move his gaze away from Castiel's, not knowing if the angel would focus his attention on something else once given the opportunity to do so and made sure to keep his movements deliberately slow because, again, they wouldn't be in any of a better position if the other became alarmed and decided to bail: in spite of the fact that almost half a week had passed since he got turned into whatever-the-heck-he-was-right-now, Dean still had trouble in predicting his reactions.

Sam had commented at some point that the angel seemed to be exhibiting behaviors typical of bigger birds – specifically, eagles and hawks – and, while at the time the whole discussion had been just _hilarious_ , Dean was now busy in cursing his friend's feathered brain.

When he finally reached his destination, he marginally relaxed in seeing that he still had the angel's full attention: the other was in fact peering at him still with that fangy smile on his face, perched on the edge of the roof with his wings spread wide to help in keeping his balance.

"Come on, Cas" Dean gestured for the other to join him on the ground "Come on, feather-brain, jump down for me..."

Castiel stared.

He stared for a long while and then he tilted his head in a way that was so 'Castiel' that it made something inside the hunter's chest go warm and pleasant. The angel wasn't showing his fangs anymore and his toothy grin had become more of an affectionate smile, his gaze had softened somewhere along the way and his blue eyes were looking at the older Winchester with an intensity that could only be described as pure adoration.

Dean swallowed. His insides were doing something funny and he wasn't entirely certain how he felt about it, so he did what he did best: he buried that thought for later examination – 'later' being, possibly, 'never' - and moved his attention back on the problem at hand.

He saw Sam trying to move close from the corner of his eyes and he sent him a warning glance before turning back to the angel.

"Cas, I need you to jump down" he said, trying to use as an inviting tone as possible given that he was talking to a version of his best friend currently run by bird-like instincts "Can you do that for me? Jump down here?" he unconsciously reached out with both hands to further underline his request.

The angel peered at him curiously for an instant, as if evaluating what was being asked of him, and then let out a soft chirp while he further spread his wings with the obvious intention to follow the hunter's wishes.

Dean had just began to relax, seeing the other so keen to comply, when suddenly the angel's head snapped back up and he seemed to freeze, his eyes scanning the area in front of him without blinking.

"Cas?" the hunter called again after taking a quick glance in his brother's direction, still waiting at the alley's entrance. Sam looked back at him and shrugged, not sure himself about what seemed to have caught their friend's attention.

"Cas!" Dean tried again, this time putting more force and authority into his voice, but the angel was still looking far off in the distance, eyes firmly focused on something that the two hunters couldn't see. His feathers bristled, his demeanor became rigid like a hound ready to sprint after its prey, his wings raised then sharply whipped down, and he was gone.

"Son of a bitch!"

Without wasting an instant, both hunters dashed back into the main street and split up to try and cover more ground, hoping that Castiel hadn't decided to ditch the neighborhood entirely.

Dean could feel his heart thundering in his temples, his eyes almost feverishly darting around to search for a pair of black wings that didn't seem to be anywhere, and he tried his best not to think about how in hell he was supposed to find his angel if the other had truly decided to take a tour to La La Land.

An unpleasant sensation gripped his stomach as the idea that maybe he _wouldn't_ be able to find his best friend tried to crawl into his mind, but he mercilessly squashed it down when the sudden barking of a large dog filled the air.

The hunter abruptly came to a halt and listened as the sound grew louder and more aggressive: it was coming from a small house at his far left, probably the pet of the family living there, but Dean couldn't see much from where he was standing. With hastened steps he moved closer only to break into a run when the familiar sound of rustling feathers filled the air.

He had almost reached the house's gate to peer inside and try to make out what was going on, when a sudden thud reached his ears and the barking abruptly stopped. For an instant he hesitated, feeling a small shiver threatening to run down his spine, and then he stepped closer, this time more carefully.

"Cas?" he called but the only answer he got was, again, the rustling of feathers, this time followed by a soft whimper of pain "Shit..."

When he could finally take a look at the garden, his breath caught in his throat. For the most part it seemed like a pretty normal garden – flowers everywhere and bushes of plants that most likely his brother would have been able to name one by one – except that, as Dean moved his gaze to the far corner that turned around the house, he noticed the red smears across the wall almost as if something had been thrown and then pinned against it. A chain was laying limply in the grass with a snapped collar attached to it and balls of fur, previously lingering in the air, were slowly floating down back to the ground.

Castiel was nowhere to be found.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel doesn't realize just how creepy he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than usual, Cas and Dean kept getting sidetracked. In fact I'd to cut my original plans for this chapter in two chapters.
> 
> Also again because of Castiel doing whatever he wanted, I'd to bump up the rating to Mature and added another couple of tags. Make sure to check them out because they might trigger someone.

Dean didn't know what to do. It was a horrible feeling and one he was not accustomed to: he always – _always –_ had a backup plan, but this? How was he supposed to find the angel's current location if they had nothing to go by?

It made him feel powerless and useless because they'd been searching for their missing friend for most of the night but Castiel had still to be found: aside from the little scene that the older Winchester had witnessed three – four, maybe five – hours ago, nothing else had happened, and they didn't even catch a glimpse of a pair of familiar black wings hiding in the alleys or on any roof.

The town wasn't big, barely more than a place of passage for people heading further north, and the two brothers had searched it to almost its entirety when Sam finally convinced him that they weren't going to find anyone – not to mention a freaking Angel of the Lord – if they didn't get some rest.

Dean had reluctantly consented only after he had given a last try at praying for the angel – hoping for him to pop by as he usually would whenever the older hunter asked for his help – only to find out that their feathery friend's internal answering machine had apparently gone down and nothing came out of asking for his presence before them other than a renewal of Dean's worries.

The drive back to the motel had been silent and tense, and Sam had wisely decided not to comment on his brother's tense expression in favor of observing his twitchiness: the whole situation was slowly eroding his patience – that and probably a lack of sleep, because, while it was extremely amusing and entertaining to see his brother jump every time he found his angel safely snuggled against him in the morning, using his wings to cover the both of them, the younger Winchester guessed that it wasn't probably the most ideal situation to invite any form of actual, peaceful rest.

It was because of how worried Dean was and how lost in his musing Sam was that, when they finally stepped inside their motel room, they both needed a minute of pause to stare and parse the scene before them.

They surely didn't expect Castiel to be waiting for them.

They didn't expect for him to be covered in blood either.

Thick, red liquid was smeared on the angel's chest and face, bright against the paleness of his skin. The edges were already beginning to grow darker as they dried and his blue eyes were peering at the two hunters with a light frown for that sudden intrusion.

The wet smell of iron was filling the air and Dean took a sharp breath when he saw Cas's tongue dart out to lick at the blood still soaking his lips. He stared as what the angel had missed of the red liquid dripped from his chin, and he swallowed.

The hunter was shaken from his daze when he heard a choked sound coming from his side, and he turned his head to find his brother staring at their common friend, completely frozen. It was only when he took in Sam's pale face – twisted in a grimace that made Dean wonder if the other was about to throw up – and after he brought back his attention on Castiel, he understood why: in his previous focus on the blood marring the angel's skin, he'd completely missed the huge, black-furred lump sprawled in a heap of dead limbs in front of the kneeled angel.

If he'd any doubts left about what had become of the vanished dog he'd stumbled upon when searching for his missing friend, they were completely thrown out of the window when Castiel leaned over to bite a big chunk of meat out of it.

His stomach clenched when the sound of torn flesh filled the silent room and he took a sharp breath before clutching his brother's arm as he slowly dragged him out of the room. He could feel the angel's gaze firmly on him the whole time and he allowed himself to breath again only when the door was safely closed behind them and he was sure they weren't going to become bird food at least for now.

His heart was thundering in his chest and a thin layer of cold sweat covered his face. He had to lean back against the door, closing his eyes for several instants to shake away the dizziness that had taken over his head.

"Fuck..." he heard himself breath out as he squeezed the bridge of his nose "Fuck!"

"Dean..." the unsettled voice of his brother made him glance sideways "Was that..."

"Yeah" Dean interrupted, trying very hard not to let his mind go back to the image of his angel sinking his teeth – fangs, they were fangs now...dangerous, animal-like fangs – in the dog's exposed neck.

"Fuck..." his brother echoed him.

Dean let out a strangled, almost hysterical laugh "Yeah..." he repeated, closing his eyes again.

Fuck dammit, how did everything turn in a fucking gore movie? Sure, the angel had been acting weirder and weirder in the past few days but he'd never shown any violent side so far...except that, now that Dean thought about it, he kind of had tried to claw Red Riding Hood's head off right after his mutation, but considering that Castiel had been bound and almost used as living sacrifice, the hunter had deemed it kind of justified at the time.

Now he wasn't entirely sure that self-defense had been the only thing driving his friend, and the thought that maybe the angel had been _hungry_ rather than angry didn't make him feel any better about the situation at hand.

He needed to calm down.

The angel hadn't tried to attack either him or Sam in spite of being interrupted during his meal – which was good – but he was also currently chomping off pieces of a former pet with the same focus of a wild animal on a freshly hunted prey – which was definitely _not_ good. Usually the kind of creatures he met that decided to take a bite off the neighbor's dog were also the ones that they tended to gank, no question asked. This, however, was Castiel that they were talking about, the same angel who was one of their closest friends and to whom they owned their lives more than once. Ganking was not an option.

In the end, Dean's musing only brought him the beginning of a headache that made him groan in frustration and glance at his brother.

"Any ideas on the geek front?" he asked, only for Sam to shake his head "any easy binding spell we can use on him?"

"Sigils. There were some on that altar of the cult obsessed with sacrificing Cas. They seemed to work on him even in current state and I did snap a couple of pictures of them with my phone, so we could copy them and force him not to go around on his own, but..." the younger hunter hesitated for an instant before continuing "Dean, I'm not sure that's a good idea"

"Sam, he's in there, chomping off pieces of a huge-ass dog like it's the most delicious fucking meal he's had in ages!" Dean snapped in return, suddenly feeling his previous wariness twist first in frustration and then in anger.

"He also didn't try to attack or even threaten any of us" his brother replied, keeping his voice calm. He could see his brother grimace at those words and the unspoken 'that's not enough' floating through his brain, so he was quick to add "Look: up until now he's been completely docile, what do you think will happen if we bind him? He's going to consider us his enemies and then what? We keep an enraged – threatened – angel with us until we find a solution, hoping that the sigils will work indefinitely?"

"So what are you trying to tell me here? That we should just ignore the whole thing?!" Dean shoot back with a glare that said exactly how much in favor of that idea he was.

"I'm saying we should probably talk to him" replied Sam with a sigh "He seems to understand us still well enough and in the state he's in he probably doesn't even realize that what he did is wrong"

"Which is exactly why we should--" Dean didn't manage to finish his sharp reply before he felt the door behind him give in and begin to open. Since he'd been so wrapped up in the discussion with his brother, it took him by surprise and, as soon as the support behind him vanished, he stumbled backward with a surprised yelp. He tried to regain his balance but he soon found a lean arm safely wrapped around his waist, keeping him straight. A lean arm with a rather bloody, clawed hand attached to its end.

With sharp, instinctive moves, Dean pulled away from that weird embrace and turned to stare at the angel standing at the door, his hand raising in a completely automatic gesture to his gun, ready to use it if necessary.

Castiel stared back at him and tilted his head, slight confusion making its way on his face. He wasn't making a move and, in fact, he looked completely oblivious to the discussion that had been going on between the two brothers. He sent a glance in Sam's direction, as if to make sure that the other was still there, and then turned back his attention on Dean, a bright smile turning up his lips – still smeared with dried blood, the hunter noticed – as he friendly chirped at them. There was no sign of him understanding just how creepy and threatening he looked at the moment.

"Hey, Cas" the younger hunter greeted him with just a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Another carefree chirp was the only answer he got before a nervous silence fell again between them. The angel was lazily blinking, head slightly cocked on one side and gaze completely unreadable: Sam had been right when he'd said that he kind of reminded him of an eagle or a hawk, because understanding what was going through his head at the moment was proving itself to be just as difficult as interpreting the intentions of one of those birds of prey when they stared at you.

In a way, it was very different from what they were used to: Castiel had always posed himself with a kind of otherworldly stillness, he'd always been unable to understand properly when a simple glance became an uncomfortable stare, but this was different. Normally he would always give off this feeling of awkwardness, like he wasn't entirely sure how to move his vessel in spite of doing his best to make it look as natural as possible. He _wanted_ to act and behave like a human but failed miserably at it.

Right now he looked like he hadn't even took in consideration the possibility of trying: he was perfectly content in following his instincts without caring of what others may think of it. It reminded Dean of a soulless Sam moving and using his body without actually _feeling_ it and it made him grip the handle of his gun even tighter.

"Maybe we should go back inside?" Sam's carefully posed question made his brother grunt his assent: as much as the older hunter still couldn't shake away the wariness gripping his body, Sammy was right. It wouldn't be pretty if anyone walked onto them while they were merrily hanging out with a winged – covered in blood – humanoid that would most likely identify them as prey.

He took a slow step toward their feathered friend before his brother could do likewise – because like hell he was allowing Sammy to get anywhere near the unpredictable angel right now – only for Castiel to brighten up even more at the sight and let out a chirp of delight.

_Yeah, yeah, I'm your potential mate, try not to eat me alive_ , the hunter thought grimly, twitching slightly when a clawed hand reached out to pull at the hem of his sleeve, prompting him back inside.

Once the door was finally closed behind them, Dean carefully tried to pry himself away from Castiel's hold: luckly the other didn't seem to mind it and let go without a protest. The hunter closed his eyes for an instant, willing his traitorous heart to stop hammering in his chest: he needed a drink. Several drinks. In fact he would have probably got himself drunk if not for the fact that he and Sam needed to keep an eye on their friend.

When he opened his eyes and found Castiel's face at barely a couple of inches from his own, he almost jumped. Blue, friendly eyes were staring at him with that weird – unbearably pure – adoration that had been directed at him ever since the angel's transformation and it would have warmed Dean's insides if not for the fact that he had once again took notice on the blood smeared all over the other's mouth.

A soft chirp – that Dean was beginning to suspect being the sound identifying him in his friend's bird-like language – left those red-tinged lips and the older Winchester unconsciously closed his eyes, swallowing when Castiel leaned in to give him a soft kiss. In would have been nice and a part of him would have enjoined it greatly if his hunter instincts weren't screaming for him to subdue what to them was a very dangerous, very real threat.

He opened his eyes again only when he heard the rustling of feathers shifting against one another and felt a pair of wings wrap around him, pulling him closer to the angel's body. Castiel's hands came to rest on his hips while he began to affectionately nuzzle the taller man's neck, the soft feathers sprouting from the back of his ears brushing against Dean's sensitive skin every now and then.

The hunter forced himself to stay still, flexing and relaxing his fingers as he tried not to fall to the temptation to reach again for his gun, and he let the angel do whatever he wanted, hoping that the other would be satisfied as soon as possible. His body was tense and his shoulders were beginning to hurt: he didn't dare to move even a muscle in spite of the fact that Castiel seemed perfectly content and non-threatening at the moment, and, if the look he could see on his brother's face from the corner of his eyes was anything to go by, Dean was certain that Sam was in a similarly uneasy state as his own. There were too many things that could go wrong, first of all the fact that the angel could snap at any moment and decide that to change his diet from animal flesh to human one.

The older Winchester peered at the half-eaten dog still laying a handful of feet away from them. Blood was slowly seeping out of the wounds, the wet smell that had hit them when they'd first stepped in the room was now taking a sourer note, and Dean couldn't help himself from grimacing: he was used to worse – heck, in a couple of occasions he'd been basically drenched in monster blood and interiors – but being forced to acknowledge that the dead body in front of him was supposed to be his angel's _meal_ was making the bottom of his stomach twist in a painful way, so much so that he'd to take a deep breath to avoid feeling sick.

He could feel the color slowly drain from his face while a thin layer of cold sweat covered his skin, and he clenched his eyes shut to try and get a hold on himself: he shouldn't feel like this, he wasn't used to that sensation of helplessness that was gripping his body so tightly. His job was supposed to be easy, he was supposed to gank a threat as soon as it presented itself, but this time? What was he supposed to do this time? Was he supposed to do something about Cas? Was he supposed to confine him? – was he supposed to do something more drastic?

If the angel had been in any shape to properly understand what was being told to him or to form any kind of complex reasoning, Dean would have simply exploded at him, demanding for an explanation for his mad behavior, but Castiel wasn't in his right mind. Or better yet, he retained his mind but it was completely locked down and only pure instinct seemed to be driving him at the moment. How long was it going to take before the angel decided that humans looked just as delicious as animals did?

Dean was abruptly brought back from his reeling mind by the sudden feeling of sharp teeth nipping at the base of his neck. He took in a sharp breath when he realized whom those fangs belonged to and his hunter instincts kicked in before he could rationally think of a better option: he sharply pulled back from the angel's embrace, shoving away the other's wings when he felt them try to keep their bodies close together and backed away until there were at least a few feet of space between them.

"No. Fucking. Fangs" he growled, feeling the need to reach for his gun bubbling inside of him with more strength than ever. When his body began to shiver with tenseness, he clenched his fists. He could see Sam warily staring at their friend while he took slow, small steps to move around him, keeping the angel between the two of them: if a fight was going to start from Dean's rejection, then they would need every bit of advantage they could take to subdue him.

Castiel didn't seem to notice. In fact, he didn't seem to be particularly upset by the behavior of the older Winchester either. If anything, he looked mildly confused, a frown on his forehead as he tilted his head on one side. His wings had been neatly folded against his back yet again and a small questioning chirp was sent in the hunter's way.

Dean didn't answer. No, to be exact, he _couldn't_ answer, because his heart was still thundering in his chest like it wanted to jump out of it and his head was shouting at him to _kill-kill-kill-kill-kill_ because _claws-and-fangs-and-too-close-for-comfort_. He squeezed his eyes close, knowing that it was a damn stupid idea given the situation, but needing to shut away the rest of the world while he tried to reel his hunter instincts back in.

It took him several instants and several deep breathes, but in the end he managed to marginally relax, enough at least not for his first instinct at the sight of the angel to be stabbing the other until the potential threat was dealt with.

Castiel was staring back at him, head still tilted on one side and brows furrowed in confusion: if anything, he looked even more lost than before since he'd been given no answer to why exactly his beloved mate had pulled away from him in such a way. Then, suddenly, something seemed to dawn on him, his eyes lighting up in understanding and his feathers tensing in excitement because of course it would be _that_ the issue.

With fluid movements that unnervingly reminded the two hunters of a predator lazily taking a stroll in its territory, the angel spun around and quickly shortened the distance between himself and his previously-caught prey, still drenching the floor with blood. A part of Dean's head distantly wondered how they were exactly going to fix that mess – because it was beginning to look like the setting of a very badly made horror movie – once the emergency at hand was dealt with while he tensely watched the angel kneel down next to the unmoving body. Sharp and long nails hovered on the exposed and still untouched belly of the dead animal for an instant and then Castiel promptly began to claw it open.

A sharp intake of breath rang into the otherwise silent room and Dean was vaguely aware of the fact that it had come from his brother, his eyes glued on the scene before him. He watched with a kind of detachment as the dogs interiors poured on the floor, his mind completely blanked out by the fact that this in front of him was Cas – his collected, kind of adorably awkward angel – shoving his hand and half of his arm deeply inside the freshly made wound, a focused frown on his face as he rummaged in search of something specific.

It was with a pleased squeal that the angel finally pulled away from the dead dog, one arm now dripping fresh blood all over the floor and hands safely cradling his prize. With eager, almost flippant steps he soon stood again in front of the older Winchester and presented his catch to him.

The hunter watched as clawed – bloody – fingers slowly opened to reveal what was gently stored inside and he felt his vision go red at the sight: it was the dog's liver. His breath caught in his throat and he felt his hands begin to shake with barely contained agitation. He forced his gaze away to stare at the angel's face, but it did nothing to ease the pressure squeezing his lungs shut. A huge – innocently happy – self-satisfied smile was quirking Castiel's lips up to almost his ears because the angel was just _so sure_ that his gift would please his mate greatly: he was, after all, depriving himself of the best, most delicious part of his prey in order to make him happy, there was no-one that would not swoon at such an effort on his part!

Dean completely snapped.

Without even a conscious thought on his part, his hand sharply swept the air, knocking away from Cas's hands what was nothing more than even more of a proof of the fact that his angel wasn't his angel at all, that whatever had taken over his mind at the moment was not to be trusted, was not be taken lightly and, most of all, that it was an enemy.

"Goddammit, Cas!" he shout, taking in only peripherally the fact that his friend's eyes had gone huge with confusion and alarm at his reaction, feathers bristling and wings opening instinctively as he braced himself for an attack that did not came in the form he was expecting. Rough hands clenched on the angel's thin, exposed shoulders and Dean moved closer to stare into his bright blue eyes, his face twisted in a pained expression that only rarely managed to come to surface.

"Cas..." his voice was strained as he spoke "Cas, please...don't make me kill you..."

The angel stared at him, eyes huge and wary as he gave a half-hearted attempt to struggle free from the hunter's hold. When it was clear that the other wasn't going to let him go anytime soon, he raised his gaze to study his face.

"Cas..." Dean's voice lowered, becoming more gentle "Don't do stuff like that" he said, nodding in the direction of the bloody, dark form laying on the floor "If you are hungry: tell me, I'll give you food. If you need anything: tell me, I'll take care of it" his voice wavered and he had to take a slow, deep breath to steady it again.

"Please, Cas, don't make me kill you..." he repeated, staring in the other's blue eyes and hoping – hoping and almost praying – for the other to understand his words.

For several moments the angel didn't react. His feathers were still bristled and his body still tense, wary gaze studying the hunter's face in search for a sign that he was about to be attacked. When nothing seemed to come, his wings lowered, his posture relaxed and he let out a soft chirp before nodding in understanding, his expression serious to let his mate know that he'd understood and would comply with his wishes.

In a way, it was nice to know that his mate wanted to provide for him even though that hadn't exactly been the main sentiment behind that whole outburst. Chirping again to confirm a second time that he would not do anything that Dean wouldn't like, he reached out with the intention of caressing one of his cheeks only to stop his motion midway and freeze. With the corner of his eyes he saw the state he was in, his fingers and his forearm completely drenched in red, and he quickly pulled his hand back to his chest, covering it with the other – cleaner – one to hide it from the hunter's gaze: his mate did not seem to like seeing his prey's blood on him.

Dean watched the angel's hesitation and something warm began to flutter inside his belly taking over the place of the tension that had been inhabiting his body up to that point: if he had to be true to himself, he wouldn't mind the other's touch now that they'd cleared the situation up. A small smile threatened to tug at the corner of his lips and, before his mind could catch up with his intentions, he reached out to cup Castiel's face with his hands, fingers sinking in the soft feathers adorning the back of his neck, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss on the angel's forehead.

"Come on, feather-head" he murmured quietly, gaze lowering to look into blue eyes filled once again with unconditional adoration "Let's clean up the mess you made"

Castiel smiled and chirped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought I would address the whole liver thing: originally that wasn't meant to happen, I only had in mind to have Dean and Sam stumble upon Cas eating some dead animal and be thoroughly squicked by it.  
> Then I happened to watch a documentary about wolves in which it explained that, since the heart and liver are the most nutritious part of a prey, they are usually reserved for the alpha of the pack. Currently Cas thinks more or less like an extremely intelligent animal and he would normally take them for his own. So, in his head, by gifting Dean with the dog's liver he was essentially doing his equivalent of taking him out on a date to a first-class restaurant.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is too cuddly for Sam's sanity.

"Dean, you might want to see this" Sam's voice filtered through the relaxed buzz that watching the small tv in their motel room had created in Dean's head.

They'd been out all day, searching for clues on what exactly had been haunting the town, but nothing had come out of it, so, when the sun had set under the horizon, they'd decided to retire for the night.

This had happened around two hours before and the younger Winchester had been the whole time working on the Enochian book that had been used to transform their resident angel in his currently feathered self, no matter how much his brother had told him that he would start loosing that mane of a hair he was so proud of if he didn't get some goddamn rest.

Dean turned his head with a low, inquiring hum: his body was still slow with pleasant relaxation and his gestures were sluggish with the potentiality of catching some sleep. From the corner of his eyes he could see that he wasn't the only one whose attention had been drawn by Sam's words: a pair of alert blue eyes were staring at the younger Winchester with a light frown, as if wondering why he was being disturbed from his – still kind of creepy – favorite sport of Dean-staring.

Since his transformation the angel had taken on a weird love for perching in the weirdest places, the most sought after being the back of any chair in sight. He also had taken on a fascination for leaping rather than walking like normal people did, so Dean was only mildly surprised when he found their feathered friend jumping next to him with a burst of dexterity that was pretty fucking amazing coming from a being with a 15-feet-wide wingspan. It was like his bone structure had rearranged itself in some weird mix between a feline and a bird's one, making his body extremely limber and light.

Dean let his gaze linger on the angel's sharp profile, allowing it to trail down only after a moment of contemplation to finally meet the other's slim neck and narrow shoulders, now covered in soft black feathers that really needed to stop looking so attractive. Castiel's attention was still focused on Sam, and his body was half-turned away from the older Winchester, so Dean wasn't surprised when one of the angel's wings spread a bit to balance his movement and the primaries brushed against his arm.

The older hunter had come to understand that, in spite of his current instincts-driven state – or maybe because of it – his friend had perfect control over every part of his body and that, much like a cat was easily able to move out of the way from any unwanted contact, Castiel was perfectly able to make the presence of his wings nigh inconsequential to the overall volume of his body if he so desired. Therefore it was perfectly reasonable for Dean to grin a bit when he felt the touch of feathers slide up from his arm to lightly brush against his cheek.

He peered at his friend but Castiel's focus was still firmly fixed on Sam, so the older Winchester decided to indulge his instincts and reached out to take one of the larger primaries in his hand, stroking it with a hum of satisfaction at the pleasant sensation against his fingers. As soon as is digits closed around the black appendage, the angel's body twitched and his blue gaze moved to look at him with curiosity.

The grin on Dean's face grew wider at the perplexed scrutiny he was being subjected to and he further extended his arm to catch a fistful of the soft feathers closest to the wing's wrist, making sure not to pull out any of them by accident. A loud – almost scandalized, the hunter noted with glee – gasp left the angel as Castiel's eyes grew wider and then Dean suddenly found himself pinned down against the bed, hips straddled by a lean body and a searching face peering at him at barely a few inches from his own.

"Hi there" he grinned cheekily, momentarily oblivious to the fact that they were putting on quite a show for the other hunter in the room. A questioning chirp was all he got for an answer, but it was enough: the angel looming over him was looking at him with a demanding frown, silently asking what was the meaning of his actions.

"What? I didn't do anything wrong" Dean continued with the same amused tone and Castiel seemed to consider his words for several instants. A light frown made its appearance on his face and his lips were pursed in concentration while he examined the situation carefully: indeed his mate had done nothing wrong, in fact, the angel was beginning to find worrisome that he didn't seem as keen to touch him as any member of a mated pair would have been with their life companion. So he agreed with enthusiasm that this was quite a pleasing – if sort of unexpected – development and leaned closer to rest his forehead against the other's.

He was rewarded for his actions with the hint of a smile, so small that if Castiel hadn't been a breath away from it he wouldn't have noticed, but filled with what he instinctively knew to be reciprocated affection.

"Hi there" Dean repeated, voice so quiet that only the angel was able to hear him this time and eyes half-closing under the other's alert blue gaze. Again he received a warm chirp in return while Castiel rubbed their foreheads together and the hunter instinctively reached out to wrap an arm around his waist. The angel pliantly moved closer at the contact and let their chests meet with a gratified sigh, his wings lowering to curl around both sides of the bed as he leaned in to tuck his face against Dean's neck.

'Comfortable' didn't even begin to describe the blissful state they both were in.

It was only when he heard loud coughing coming from the other side of the room that Dean was brought back from his daze. He frowned, displeased that he was being dragged away from that pleasant and warm buzz filling his body, and finally he brought his attention back on his brother. Normally he would be embarrassed to be caught _cuddling_ of all things, but the more he got used to having Castiel so eager to share their personal space, the less his brain seemed to find anything wrong with their closeness. It probably wasn't a good thing because what was he supposed to do once the angel went back to his usual self? Would his friend remember the time passed in this instincts-driven state? Would he be ashamed of it? Would he just resume his usual stance like nothing had happened?

And what if he remembered instead? What if he wanted to continue with--

Sam was now outright scowling at them, eyebrows raised in one of his most brilliant bitch faces and mouth bent into an annoyed line at being ignored so thoroughly. Dean wasn't put down one bit by it.

"Seriously, guys?" the younger Winchester asked, his eyes narrowing.

"What?" the older hunter intoned in return, a grin making its way on his lips at the look on his brother's face.

"Dean, you--" Sam began with irritation only to interrupt himself with a loud, longsuffering sigh "never mind, can I get your attention for five minutes or would you rather continue with the PDA?"

Dean seemed to consider that request carefully while he stared at his brother for several instants, then he glanced at the angel still in his arms and couldn't help but comment "...if you manage to pull him away from me, sure"

Sam's scowl deepened but he didn't comment further, allowing himself only to roll his eyes before he gathered the book and note papers scattered on the table in his arms and moved closer. He'd all the intention of sitting on the chair next to the bed, but, when he was at only one step away from it, Castiel folded the closest wing against his back in a silent request to join them.

For an instant the younger hunter hesitated, not entirely sure what to do: the angel had never seemed particularly interested in having him close by while he was cuddling – eh, cuddling, that's a thing he'd never thought he would see – with his brother. When however he saw a clawed hand patting the free space besides them Sam decided to take the silent invitation, if nothing else because he would have more space to sprawl his notes around.

From the corner of his eyes he saw a satisfied smile tug at the corners of Castiel's lips and then the angel went back to tucking his face against Dean's shoulder. Sam watched as the feathers covering the back of his head raised and lowered with every deep breath he took and, before he realized what he was doing, he reached out to smooth them over. Black wings twitched at the contact, but the other didn't pull away, letting out instead a soft chirp that made a smile slip on his face.

When he raised his gaze again he found a smug grin welcoming him and his face tensed back into a scowl directed at his brother.

"You shouldn't take advantage of him like that, Sammy! Weren't you saying something about PDA? Uhm?" the younger hunter narrowed his eyes at Dean's obvious amusement and he decided that part of his notes could as well be used to whack his brother in the face.

"Fine, fine, I get it, it's Pissy Bitch mode time" the other laughed handling a bit the angel in his arms to pull himself upright against the bed's headboard "Now, what have you got?"

He didn't mind the grumbled "Jerk" that came from Sam at his words but he focused his full attention on him when he began to explain what he'd found out so far.

"I think we went about this the wrong way from the beginning, that's why I was having so much trouble translating the book" he said, slowly flipping through the pages and keeping some of them bookmarked with his fingers "I thought it was about summoning rituals, given how we found it, but that's not really it. See this?" he added, pointing at a series of symbols and then showing him the same sequence in the other pages he was keeping track of "This is Enochian for 'Grace'"

"Wait" Dean blinked, eyes raising to stare at his face "'Grace' in the sense of 'Grace'? The angel variety 'Grace'?"

"Of course, Dean, how many other Graces do you know?" Sam rolled his eyes before continuing, ignoring his brother's frown "I still have to translate the whole thing, but I think the spells in this book have all one theme in common: Grace manipulation. That's probably why even Cas's behavior has been effected by the ritual: normally changing his body wouldn't be an issue since it'd only be his vessel and not really him to undergo the mutation, but his whole Grace's been tinkered with this time around and that's the result" he concluded, gesturing at the angel peering back at him with mild curiosity.

"Jesus fucking Chris, how did they even manage to get their hands on that?!" the older hunter was staring again at the book resting in his brother's lap "Fuck that, how do angels not know about it and haven't mojoed it out of existence yet?!"

"There are protection seals all over it like the ones Cas carved into our ribs" Sam explained, showing him the front cover and pointing at the series of symbols adorning the edges "They probably don't even know that it's been out there all this time"

Dean groaned and absently patted the back of Castiel's head when the angel chirped worriedly at his reaction "What were they even trying to accomplish by making him go all Happy Tree Friends on us?"

"...how do you even know about that?" Sam's eyebrows raised in disbelief at that reference and his brother shrugged.

"Your laptop was open" was the only explanation he got "Dude, you've some serious sick interests, anything you'd like to share with the class?"

"I clicked on that link by accident!" Sam began to protest but was interrupted by Dean's wide grin.

"Sure you did, Sammy, sure" the older hunter commented, chuckling while he absently combed the soft feathers between the shoulders of the angel still in his arms, secretly enjoying every satisfied chirp he managed to drag out of him.

"You're such a jerk!"

"Bitch" Dean's grin grew wider at the glare sent in his way.

" _Anyway_ " Sam continued after allowing himself another instant to silently remind to his brother how unamused he was "I think they performed the ritual wrong, that's why they were surprised by the result" he explained, reaching out to show his notes to his brother and trying to ignore his grumbled "Great, of course a bunch of idiots would kidnap the all-powerful angel. Freaky newbie luck!"

"I think they were trying to go for this spell" he explained, skimming through the book to finally set on a page near the end of it "I compared the pictures I took with the symbols used for the ritual and they're almost all the same" he showed again his notes to Dean, pointing at a table highlighting the similarities and the differences "It's used to, and I'm quoting the book here, 'change the shape of Grace' and it requires to be explicitly personalized by specifying what the final shape of the Grace should be"

"Don't tell me: they got that wrong" Dean grimaced after they shared a meaningful glance, going as far as groaning aloud when he saw his brother nod in confirmation "Fucking hell..."

"There's a list at the end of the spell with the most common alternatives and I think they read the wrong line and wrote the wrong symbol" Sam sighed and Dean had to put quite a bit of effort into refraining to comment aloud their incompetence. He glanced down to see a pair of blue eyes peering back at him with a confused frown and the hunter shook his head to let him know that everything was all right. The angel didn't seem very convinced and, after a moment of pause, he reached out to...pet Dean's hair? Seriously?

"Cas, dude, no..." he grumbled without even realizing it as he moved to swat his friend's fingers away. An annoyed frown made its way on the angel's and a low, hissing whistle of warning left his lips when he raised his hand again to sink it in Dean's short hair.

The hunter rolled his eyes but he let his friend do whatever he wanted nonetheless: he'd already experience firsthand how it was absolutely useless to try and make Castiel behave when he was in that mood – in fact, one of those occurrences had ended up with a dead dog and a general moment of freak out that he'd rather not remember.

"So, what were they trying to do exactly before the whole plan blew up in their faces, anyway?" he asked, thoroughly ignoring the raised eyebrow that Sam was directing in his way. For an instant the younger hunter seemed uncertain of how to reply – or maybe he was uncertain about _if_ he should reply – and hummed softly while he let his gaze drop on the notes in his lap.

"I think they were trying to make Cas fall" he said in the end.

"Son of a bitch, what were they even going to gain from that?!" Dean's eyes widened at the realization of exactly how much worse the whole situation could have been and his hold around the angel's waist tightened in an instinctive need to keep his friend safe.

Sam shrugged and shook his head in a sign that he'd yet to find an answer to that question "I'm not sure, but I'm guessing it was to use his Grace as fuel for another one of the book's spells. We thought the whole ritual was used to summon something, but there aren't many summoning spells in here and none of them needs to be fed Grace for it to work anyway..."

Dean let his gaze drop again on the angel still happily sprawled all over his chest: for the most part he seemed oblivious of the discussion taking place, busy as he was with stroking the hunter's hair. No-one was going to touch even a feather out of him, and especially not under his watch.

Taken over by a need he wasn't sure how to classify himself, he laid his hand on the angel's back, between his wings, and took a fistful of the black feathers covering it. A shiver shook Cas's body and soon a pair of blue eyes were staring in Dean's own from too close a distance. Their breath mingled while the angel kept his unblinking gaze firmly fixed on the other's, their noses barely touching, and the hunter only absently wondered if he'd overstepped any kind of unspoken limit.

Any doubt he might have had was washed away when Castiel leaned in to press their lips together. It was neither a particularly heated kiss, nor it had any hint of lust in it: their mouth brushed against one another over an over again as their eyes closed, and a series of quiet, almost cooing chirps bubbled from the angel's throat.

They would have probably continued indefinitely if not for the amused comment that came from Sam.

"Dude, you're so whipped it's not even funny" he paused an instant and then a wide grin made its apparence on his face when a new bout of pleased sounds left the angel snuggling with his brother "Scratch that, this is definitely funny"

"Shut up, bitch" Dean shot back "I don't know if you noticed but the guy kind of manhandles me wherever the fuck he wants even if I try to keep a sane level of personal space between us"

"Of course, and obviously you aren't enjoying it one bit" the other nodded, a solemn expression that it made evident how much he was getting a kick out of teasing him on that topic. A delighted laugh left him when he saw the expression on Dean's face: who knew that his brother could copy his bitch faces so well when he wanted to?

"Sorry, Cas" he said when the angel's gaze snapped in his direction, startled by his sudden mirth. A confused frown creased Castiel's forehead and he let his attention swing back and fort between the two brothers. He tilted his head, blue eyes studying them pensively for several instants.

When he leaned in to press again his lips against Dean's mouth it didn't surprise anyone, but when, instead of pulling himself upright again, he deviated to stamp a quick kiss on Sam's cheek too, the older hunter felt completely entitled to burst out laughing, feeling at least partially vindicated from the previous teasing he'd to withstand.

_Oh, this is great!_ He thought when the younger Winchester sputtered in surprise, and he instinctively patted one of Castiel's thighs to let him know that he was proud of him.

"Cas...seriously: keep the PDA strictly Dean-related" Sam sighed in the end when he managed to regain some form of composure, his cheeks flushed with a light blush: it wasn't like he minded to be on the recipient end of such gestures of affection – he wasn't allergic to human contact like his brother was – but the angel had completely taken him by surprise. Heck, up to half an hour ago he was convinced that his presence was barely tolerated by the feral angel!

A pair of unblinking blue eyes stared at him at his words and studied his face with attention before Castiel shook his head, making Sam frown. The angel's eyebrows were pinched together, eyes squinted, and sounds that could only be described as frustrated raised from his figure while he seemed to struggle to express properly what was passing through his head.

"Cas, you ok?" Dean asked, frowning at the look on his friend's face and the angel shook his head again, mouth opening only to let out a rasping, half-aborted reply. Another frustrated sound left him and his wings bristled in accordance with his upset mood, raising behind his back and sharply whipping the air once before stilling completely.

"Cas, what--?" the older hunter reached out for the angel's arm, instinctively trying to calm him down, but was interrupted when the focus of too blue eyes was sharply brought back on him.

"Flock!" Castiel shout in the end, his hands gesturing first at the two hunters and then at himself "Dean, Sam, Castiel: flock!" he finally managed, panting in relief now that he'd been able to let the others know his mind somehow. His shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath while he watched the two brothers with the satisfied hint of a smile on his face, not noticing the twin pair of stares that were now fixed on him with the attention of a hunting eagle on its prey.

"Dude...you can talk?!"

Castiel blinked: oh, yeah...apparently he could.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel sets a few things straight with Dean.

Saying that Castiel could talk was perhaps overestimating the situation a bit: in the hour that followed his unexpected burst of coherence, Dean and Sam had tried to weight how much the angel was actually able to use proper words with mixed results: at times he seemed to be able to put together whole sentences – albeit with a consistent lack of proper grammar – and other times he seemed to have difficulties in expressing even a single word in English.

Sam's only hypothesis on the matter was that probably the effect of the spell keeping Castiel in the feral state he was stuck in was beginning to wear off, but the one thing they learned for sure during the time passed trying to probe the angel's suddenly regained ability to speak was that, apparently, Enochian swears were a thing.

A rather loud, scary-sounding thing that almost made the two hunters jump out of their skin when Castiel had decided to express his growing frustration with the situation at hand more colorfully than he usually would.

"Cas, calm down!" Sam shouted when one of the angel's wings snapped open and almost knocked him off his feet, but his words didn't seem to reach the other through the thick irritation that was making his feathers puff out and his gaze dart around almost wildly.

"Ok, no more speaking lessons for tonight!" Dean sharply cut in, avoiding Cas's other wing as it whipped through the air: it was obvious that trying to force things along wasn't going to help at all "It's time for baby angels and kid brothers to go to bed anyway" he added, ignoring the disapproving frown that Sam sent him at those words. His gaze staid firmly on the angel as wide blue eyes locked with his own: the other's breathing was quick and irregular, and every now and then a high-pitched sound threatened to leave his throat only to be aborted midway.

"Cas..." Dean called him again, voice still firm but softer as he slowly moved closer to wrap a hand around his arm. He watched the other swallow at the contact and close his eyes. Slowly, his stance seemed to finally relax, the feathers on his back and wings smoothing back to their proper place as he let out a barely audible sigh.

"You good?" the hunter asked, still peering at his friend to make sure that he wasn't going to go ballistic on them anytime soon. A small nod was the answer that he got before the angel took a deep breath and managed to let out a soft "Yes", his gaze lingering on Dean's face as if studying the lines of his cheeks and nose helped to ground him to a more rational state of mind.

"See, you don't need to put too much effort into it" the hunter commented, a small grin making its way on his face when he patted his friend's shoulder "You'll be able to properly swear at us in seventeen different languages soon enough" he added, chuckling when he saw a familiar confused frown creasing the angel's forehead.

He could easily read the implied 'But Dean, I never swear at you, not in your language and certainly not in any other language' and it made something warm gently pulse inside his chest: since the other's transformation this was the first time that Cas showed any behavior reminiscent of his usual self.

Granted, you got used to the whole feral shtick and at times it was kind of adorable, but the mere glimpse of the old Castiel underneath layers of animal-like instincts lifted a weight from Dean's back: at least now he had some proof that whatever had been done to his angel's Grace was reversible.

He patted a last time his friend's arm in a sign of reassurance that they were going to do their damn best to fix this, and then he pulled away – and if his fingers lingered a bit too long on the other's exposed skin, it was entirely no-one's fucking business but his own.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see that his brother must have noticed his behavior but decided to thankfully stay silent on the matter, so he focused his attention on getting ready for the night.

When he finally was enveloped by the familiar warmth of rough motel sheets he let out a satisfied sigh and he mumbled a half-hearted "'night, Cas"

Through half-closed lids he could barely see the hint of a smile quirking the angel's lips upwards as he moved closer to take a sit next to Dean's bed.

"Goodnight, Dean" was the soft-spoken reply that reached him, and, while his mind was already beginning to fall to unconsciousness, the hunter noticed with satisfaction that this time his angel had avoided to perch on the back of the chair.

******

When Dean woke up the first time after his obligatory four hours of sleep, the one thing that filtered through his still fog-filled mind was that his mouth was completely dry. For several instants he debated the pro and cons of gathering enough will to grab the nearest bottle of water and quench his thirst against simply falling back to a more blessed state of rest. It was only a couple of instants before his tired body won the fight and he let unconsciousness wrap him again.

The second time Dean woke up was to a rustling and shifting sound. Usually it would be enough to send his hunter instincts on high alert, but, apparently, the knowledge of an angel still lingering in the room, guarding his sleep, was deemed by his mind enough of a reason not to bother itself with sending any kind of adrenaline spike through his body: even if something or someone had decided to try and take them down by surprise, Cas was more than enough capable to take care of it on his own.

So he only allowed himself a couple of seconds to confirm that silence had fallen once again in the room and that no apparent struggle or killing match had started, before promptly falling back to sleep a second time.

The third time Dean woke up it was to the feeling of something tickling his nose.

At first he tried to ignore it but the more he focused on it, the more sleep seemed to slip through his mental fingers. When he finally cracked his eyes open, it soon became evident what had dared to disturb his rest: his sight was completely filled with the black feathers attached to a familiar fluffy wing.

"Cas?" he mumbled, trying to shift on his back to see what exactly the angel was doing only to find his path blocked by what felt like an immovable object. An immovable, warm object that was currently wrapped around him from the base of his neck to the joint of his knees.

"Cas?" he tried again, feeling all the lingering sleep promptly leaving his mind as he twisted his head to look at the angel snuggled against his back. Blue eyes raised to meet his, accompanied by a soft chirp of greetings, and Dean hummed in reply as he quickly confirmed to himself that no covers had been removed at any point in time during the night and that he was still safely wrapped in a layer of cotton. A layer of cotton and one gorgeous black wing whose feathers were to blame for him waking up to begin with.

The first time Dean had woken up only to find out that his best friend had apparently decided he was some kind of angel night warmer, he had understandably freaked out just a little bit and he might – _might_ – have let out a not-entirely-manly-shriek – though he would deny it to his deathbed if anyone were to inquire about it. After a stern reprimand in the angel's general direction and the next days featuring the exact same morning call, however, it had soon become evident to the hunter that, in his current state, Castiel had even less concern toward personal space than he was already not-equipped with and that, what had started as cause of great morning embarrassment, was now a sort of habit. Heck, he'd even begun to use lighter covers because he was so used to the additional layer of feathers keeping him warm.

"Come on, feather-head, I know you can do better than that" Dean peered at the angel behind him when he received no reply other than a second chirp. Cas frowned at those words and his lips were pressed together in a straight line, showing his attempt to focus on use using his mouth for something other than bird-like calls.

"Good...morning, Dean..." he finally managed to drag out and Dean grinned widely in hearing that gravelly voice again.

"Good morning, Cas" he replied with amusement, pulling himself up and taking a quick look around the room "Where's Sam?" he asked when he took in a noticeable lack of sasquatch presence in the room.

"...breakfast" was the reply that he received after several more instants of focusing on the angel's part: he still didn't seem to be able to use words without actually taking his time into bringing them back to memory one by one, but Dean would be damned if he weren't going to try and prod the recovering process along by forcing his friend to use as much of them as possible.

He watched as his friend's feathers puffed a bit – as if the angel were proud of himself for managing that reply – and then brought back his attention to the blue eyes still peering at him from the spot on the bed where Cas was sitting, legs folded under him. For several instants he didn't move, unconsciously falling into a staring contest with the other, but once his eyes began to burn from strain, he was forced to look away and couldn't help but snort in amusement, shaking his head.

When he finally glanced again at the angel and saw his trademark confused head tilt, a laugh escaped his throat before he realized what was going on.

"Cas, seriously, you need to remember to blink or you're going to creep the crap out of everyone for the rest of your life" he commented, grinning widely when he saw a frown make it's way on his friend's forehead. He patted him on the shoulder once, trying very hard not to let his fingers trail through the soft layer of down feathers covering part of it, and failing miserably when he realized that his hand had apparently decided to move on his own accord to caress the back of the angel's neck.

Glancing at his friend's face, he noticed that the other's attention was still focused on him, blue eyes apparently quite intent into counting every single freckle marking his face.

Dean was hit by the sudden urge to kiss him, to reach out and moist the other's chapped lisp with his tongue, biting them until they became full and red under his attentions. He took a deep breath through his nose to try and keep his mind away from that train of thoughts: so far any kind of intimate interaction between them had been initiated by the angel, and Dean wasn't entirely sure how his friend would react if he were the first to act on his instincts. Especially now that Castiel seemed to be regaining some part of his former self.

With that thought in mind, he gave a wary smile to the angel still curiously peering back at him, and tried his best to be as nonchalant as possible when he quickly jumped to his feet "'m gonna take a shower" he mumbled while he finally pulled his gaze away from the other's face.

He decided that it was completely reasonable for him to ignore the heat that he could feel spreading up his neck and towards his cheeks, making him curse inwardly because _goddammit he wasn't a girl!_ which, in hindsight, was probably the reason why he didn't notice his friend moving closer and reaching out to grab his wrist.

"Dean..." he called him, his voice quiet as he pulled the hunter to make him lean closer. His blue eyes were filled with something that Dean wasn't quite sure how to describe, it was a sort of unreadable depth that in more than one occasion he'd come to consider just a part of his friend's angelic nature.

"Dean..." Castiel repeated again, his voice still low but firm in the unspoken request of 'do not move' and Dean couldn't help but swallow under the intensity of the other's gaze.

"Cas..." he began to say, his voice barely a whisper, only to cut himself shortly when he realized he didn't know how to continue. It soon was clear to him that he didn't have to say anything because the angel was leaning closer and his lips pressed against his own in a chaste kiss.

Their gazes locked and Dean almost whimpered when he saw the intensity – the _possessiveness_ – filling his friend's unnaturally blue eyes. Even if Castiel hadn't uttered a word to explicitly say what was passing through his mind, the message was clear: "I want you", "You're mine", "It's not just my instincts", " _I_ want _you_ ".

"Cas...God...Cas..." Dean sighed when their mouths finally pulled apart, his heart pounding in his ears and his breath coming out ragged and uneven. He could feel warmth pooling in his belly when he watched his friend's tongue dart out to lick at the leftover flavor on his lips, and suddenly his pants felt far too tight to be anywhere near comfortable. Blue eyes were still watching him like he was the only person worth of their attention in the world and something hot and heavy and just _too much_ squeezed his chest, making him blurt out a quick excuse before he promptly made his escape and locked himself in the bathroom.

By the time he managed to regain some form of domain over his body – and after taking a long, warm shower during which he definitely didn't take care of the little issue poking out from between his legs _goddammitnohedidn't_! – Sam had finally rejoined them in the room, a thing Dean was extremely grateful for.

He dared only a quick glance in Castiel's direction, confirming that the angel's attention had immediately focused back on him with his first step out of the bathroom, and then he made sure to keep his eyes firmly on his brother.

"Food" he demanded, a grin making its way on his lips when Sam rolled his eyes.

"Good morning to you too, Dean, I hope the beauty sleep was satisfactory" the younger hunter commented, taking a sit on the nearest chair.

"Sure was" Dean commented absently, smirk still firmly in place "Now: food" he repeated somewhat petulantly, knowing how much it irked his baby brother. As expected, Sam sent him a glare that he promptly ignored...or at least, he tried to until it slowly morphed into an amused smile.

In hindsight, he probably should have noticed the quite conspicuous lack of any kind of paper bag in the other's near proximity. If he had, he might have guessed were his breakfast was currently being stored and avoided the ominous shiver that ran down his spine when his brother nodded in the direction of their angelic friend.

Castiel was currently sitting cross-legged on Dean's bed, his face pinched into a confused frown as he peered inside the anonymous brown bag that obviously contained the hunter's food-related goal.

Well, there went his valiant efforts to refrain from closing the distance between him and the angel...

With a last glare in his brother's direction – because, seriously, what had possessed him into relinquishing Dean's breakfast to the one person in the room who supposedly didn't even actually _need_ to eat, no matter how much he seemed to enjoy hunting for his own food? - the hunter moved closer to his winged friend.

"So..." Sam began "While I was waiting for my turn this morning, I bumped into Danneel Ross, the fiancée of the third victim" he added the last part noticing the frown on his brother's face. Dean had taken a sit next to the angel still keeping the paper bag safely in his lap and was reaching out to finally get some goddamn food for himself.

"Got anything new?" he absently asked, a frown making it's way on his face when the angel slapped his hand away: Cas was peering at him with those bright unblinking eyes of his and the hunter wasn't entirely sure how to interpret.

"Yeah, actually" Sam replied, watching the scene before him with a slightly raised eyebrow "You remember how the first victim was supposedly attacked a couple of miles south from there? Well, it turns out that smack in the middle of the woods, between those two places, there is apparently an old house whose owner's recently passed away, a guy named Dave Harrison who died a couple of months ago"

"You think vengeful spirit?" Dean sent a glance in his direction before trying again to get his breakfast from the angel's clawed paws and promptly having his hand slapped away a second time. What the fuck?

Sam shrugged, his gaze going back and forth between his brother and Castiel as he tried to understand what exactly was going on between the two of them.

"It might be" he replied "All killings follow the same pattern and, while the guy's death was supposedly written off as an accident, you never know if they're hiding anything in these small towns..." he paused an instant to then continue "And then there's the matter of the dog: apparently he had this huge, black dog that would attack anyone on sight if Harrison wasn't around – the guy was pretty infamous for it – and guess what? Turns out no-one's seen the dog around since he died"

"Sounds like we need to go check the guy's house" Dean commented and then promptly glared at his angel when his hand was slapped away for the third time.

"Dude, what?" he asked, slightly annoyed by being kept away from his food. Castiel tilted his head and peered at him without making a sound, as if he were studying Dean's expression to decide what to do next. He then reached inside the bag still waiting in his lap and pulled out a – extremely sugary-looking – bagel out of it. After sniffing it a couple of times to make sure that it was proper food, he tore out a piece of it and offered it to Dean with a huge smile on his face.

The hunter's frown grew deeper as he ignored the offered food to try once again and snatch the paper bag from the angel's clutches, only to freeze at the warning whistle he received in return. Blue eyes narrowed as the feathers on Castiel's wings puffed in annoyance, and he once again offered the piece of bagel to his mate.  
"Fine, let's go with the hand-feeding too!" a groan left Dean when it became obvious to him that the only way he was getting any breakfast today was if he allowed the angel to feed him: it wasn't like Cas had allowed him to retain any kind of pretence image of himself in front of his brother so far, so why start now?

Chirping in agreement and pleased to see his mate comply with his wishes, the angel scooted closer – so much so that Dean could now feel the warmth radiating from the other's skin through the thin fabric of his shirt – and offered him yet again the piece of sweetened bread in his hand.

It took the older Winchester still a few moments of pause before a firm 'fuck it!' settled in his head and he leaned in with the intention of making the whole thing as quick as possible. The theory was that he should have got the whole thing over with before his idiot younger brother decided that it was too good an opportunity to pass without commenting, except that, as soon as his lips brushed against the skin of the angel's fingers, he saw Cas's black wings shiver ever so slightly and his attention was completely derailed to more interesting matters. Specifically to how, apparently, tracing the side of one digit with the tip of his tongue to catch any leftover icing made the feathers at the back of the other's neck puff out and his breath catch in his throat.

His eyes caught the angel's blue gaze and the two of them stared at each other without making even the smallest sound, too busy trying to read exactly what the other's intentions were to do anything themselves.

It was at the sudden sound of a cellphone ringtone going off that they both started, heads snapping in Sam's direction: the younger hunter had moved at some point to stand next to the room's only window, his face pinched into a frown as he listened carefully to whoever it was at the phone.

When he finally ended the call, his expression was dark and his lips were pressed into a grim straight line.

"They found another body"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is more than helpful.

The young boy in front of them couldn't be more than fifteen-year-old. He was bundled up on himself, shivering in shock as the paramedics fussed over him to make sure he wasn't hurt. He'd been found just outside the nearby woods, dazed and barely cognizant of what was happening around him, the only thing leaving his mouth being a mantra of "It got her".

His girlfriend, a small thing with short dark hair and a round face, was sprawled in a pool of her own blood just half a mile from where the boy was currently being checked over. Her heart and lungs were missing, eaten away by fangs.

The two teenagers had apparently been camping together, ignoring – or perhaps thinking that nothing could happen to them – the several attacks of the last few weeks, when something had decided they looked like a nice midnight snack. So far, the only thing the police managed to gather from the shivering boy was the confirmation that some kind of wild animal had chased them down, a menacing growl and a set of sharp teeth being the two things that he kept repeating over and over again when asked what he saw.

"Ok, so this rules vengeful spirits out" Sam commented when he and his brother were allowed to check the body.

"So what have we got left now?" Dean replied, his mouth set into a hard line as he examined the clawing marks around the main wound on the girl's chest "Back to the werewolf theory?"

"Still outside the lunar cycle" the younger hunter shook his head "But you remember the dog I told you about? The one Harrison had and that vanished with his death?" he added, waiting for his brother to nod before continuing "It might be some kind of dog spirit: there are plenty of legends about those and they tend to involve the 'killing people' part of the deal basically always..."

"Great, human-eating wild dog" grumbled Dean, a grim expression flashing on his face: if there was something that he really would do without, it was the earthly cousins of Hellhounds.

"So if the dog's been hanging around the guy for ages, why start hunting people only now?"

Sam shrugged, still not sure himself: it was just a theory for now and not a particularly solid one since it was based just on the disappearance of one dog, but it was the only lead they had at the moment.

"We should still check Harrison's house" Sam replied in the end "If his dog has anything to do with all this, we might find something"

After making sure that the boy still being checked by the paramedics didn't have anything else relevant to tell them about his assailant and after taking a quick detour to stock up on salt and iron – you never had enough salt and iron, never – they found themselves in front of a small house surrounded by what must have been at least a decent garden before the owner's death. Plants were beginning to crawl up the walls and it was obvious that no-one had put a foot in it since Harrison had left for greener and slightly-more-boring pastures in Heaven.

As the two hunters stepped inside, guns out and ready, they took in a modest living room with a table and matching chairs, what looked like an old bookcase that must have been there since before Harrison was even born and a small cupboard topped with a handful of framed pictures. Everything was covered in a thin but evident layer of dust, a sign that not much time had passed since the owner's demise, but that confirmed unequivocably that the two Winchester had been the only living people to lurk around the place in the last few months.

After a quick search to make sure there wasn't anyone – or anything – around, they began to examine the place more throughly.

"The guy sure looked boring" it was Dean's comment that finally broke the silence filling the house. He was examining a framed picture laying askew on a small cabinet, just an inch away from toppling over: it showed a burly man with a gruff expression on his face, dark unkept hair and wearing a set of worn-out clothes. At his feet was what the hunter guessed to be the famous dog Sam had been talking about: a big hound with dark fur and brown eyes sat at Harrison's side, back straight and gaze firmly fixed towards the camera while his master was absently scratching the back of its neck.

"Doesn't look much demonic to me" he added, picking up the picture and waving it in his brother's direction. The younger hunter briefly peered at the photo from his spot near a bookcase that mustn't have seen much action even when its owner was alive, and frowned: well, ok, the dog was pretty big and given its size Sam had no trouble in guessing it would be quite able to down even a grown man, but it also looked well trained and anything but evil, if its stance was anything to go by.

"Maybe it wasn't when Harrison was still alive: it might have been possessed by something in the meanwhile" he slowly offered in return, still entirely sure that they should discard their current only lead so easily.

"What? You think something took advantage of a _dog_ 's grief to take over its body and go on a flesh-eating rampage?" the roll of Dean's eyes was enough to say how much he believed in that theory.

A shrug was everything that Sam could give in return "I don't know what to tell you, Dean" he sighed "Maybe that's exactly the point, maybe we should check if there has been any other case in the past with similar victims"

"Didn't you already do that?" the older hunter frowned because, seriously, this was Basic Hunting 101.

"I did" his brother sighed a second time, like he was stating the obvious "And nothing turned out for the kind of wounds the victims suffered. Still, I might have missed something and it's not like double checking would do any arm..."

Dean frowned as he absently put down the picture still in his hand "Yeah, about that: why the heart and lungs anyway?" he asked.

Sam was about to shrug in response, not sure himself what to reply aside from a "Well, for the same reason werewolves go after the heart I'm guessing" when he was interrupted by a familiar voice filling the air together with the sound of rustling feathers.

"Soul and breath" Castiel appeared behind them, making them both sharply turn in surprise to face him. The angel was still shirtless and his back was still adorned with black wings and feathers, but he was standing straighter than the day before, more stiffly.

No, not more _stiffly_ , Dean realized as he unconsciously studied the new arrival, _motionless_ was more like it. The same kind of angelic motionlessness that he'd always shown before his transformation. A small grin tugged at his lips at that thought before he continued the discussion like the other hadn't just suddenly popped in on them like his usual.

"'Soul' I understand, but what's with the 'breath' part?"

The troubled squint that took over Cas's face at that question was kind of adorable, if the hunter had to be honest with himself. His wings were twitching and his feathers fluffing out in accord with the angel's thoughtful expression, and his frown was only growing deeper with every passing second.

"Soul and breath" he repeated in the end, this time gesturing at his chest and drawing first a circle over its center and then two vertical lines that went from his shoulders to his belly.

"Heart and lungs" Sam commented, understanding where the other was getting at "You mean 'breath' as in 'breath of life', right, Cas? It's not actually eating their flesh, it's eating their soul and life!" he turned expectedly towards his brother, eyes twinkling with the same excitement that always lit them when the younger Winchester managed to put two clues together "Remember what people keep telling us about souls? 'Souls are powerful things'! It's using its victims' life to gather energy and their souls to gather power!"

The angel's nod at those words shouldn't have been so enthusiastic considering the discussion at hand, but Dean supposed the guy kind of earned it since he'd just managed to be useful in spite of still not being running at 100% of his abilities.

"Which means that either this thing uses a lot of power and needs to constantly recharge, or it's getting more powerful with every kill" Dean grimaced before glancing again in Castiel's direction "Any chance you know what we're after exactly?"

The confused look that he got in return was enough of an answer and he sighed loudly before addressing his brother.

"I guess we're back to checking the house"

After another quick check which confirmed that nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be hiding there, they moved to the second floor and in what looked like the main bedroom. Like with the other rooms, everything was covered in an insistent but thin layer of dust and, if possibile, the place looked even more bare than the first floor had been. The only source of decoration were a picture on the nightstand and what looked like some old but small frames hanging from the nearest wall, on the opposite side of the bed.

When Sam peered at his brother, silently asking for his opinion, Dean shrugged and nodded for him to go check the drawers just in case. He was about to move closer to the bed himself when he felt a hand lightly press against his back, making him turn to glance at the angel standing close behind him, so much so that their bodies were almost touching.

His gaze moved to lock with Cas's stupidly blue eyes and frowned, silently asking why the other had decided to catch his attention. The soft chirp that he received as answer wasn't very helpful but it made an unconscious grin tug at the corners of Dean's mouth.

"Cas?" he prompted again, this time aloud, and he wetted his lips when he felt the pressure of the hand on his back move lower. The angel was watching him attentively, as if gauging his reactions, and his wings twitched before one reached out to wrapt itself around the hunter's shoulders.

"It's not really the right time, Cas..." those words left Dean in a quiet hum when his friend decided to take a step closer, making their arms and hands brush against one another. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he should really put some distance between them and that he was supposed to focus on searching the room for any anormality instead of staring in the angel's eyes like a lovestruck teenager, but when Castiel gently prompted him to turn his head with the tip of his fingers and leaned closer to press a kiss to the corner of Dean's mouth, the hunter's mind wisely decided to shut down.

Soft lips pressed against his own, over and over again, with so much careful affection that Dean felt his chest squeeze tight and his skin tingle in a way he still refused to examine. A silent sigh left him and the angel was quick to take advantage of it, letting his tongue inside the hunter's mouth and exploring it with almost militaristic precision. Clawed hands raised, cradling his neck with the kind of loving tenderness that Dean wasn't used to receive from his partners, and slowly stroked his nape with the tip of their fingers.

The hunter would deny to his deathbed the whimper that left his throat when he felt sharp teeth gently pull at his lower lip and saw blue eyes staring back at him with something feral and possessive dancing in their depth.

This really wasn't the right time to get aroused, but he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to stop the angel either.

He was spared from making a decision when the loud sound of someone's clearing their throat filled the room and Sammy – blessed Sammy! - rolled his eyes with an exasperated "Seriously, guys?!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist" Dean commented, sending him the obligatory smug grin "Feather-head here is kind of distracting" he added, noticing with amusement the annoyed look that had taken over Castiel's face at that unwanted interruption. One of his hands had moved from the back of Dean's neck to the small of his back and was distractedly drawing lazy circles just hunder the hem of his shirt.

"Whatever" Sam replied, his expression one of clear disapproval as he continued "Now get here: I might have actually found something while you two were busy making out" he added with a tone from which it was evident that he wanted to focus on anything but the image of his brother getting his mouth tongue-fucked by an angel of the Lord.

He was expectantly standing next to the bed and, when the older hunter finally managed to untangle himself from Castiel's arms, he pointed at the frame hanging from the wall: judging from the yellow tint of some of the pictures and the dates scribbled on them, the people depicted must have been Harrison's relatives, probably from the time when his family had first acquired the land on which the house now stood.

Dean wasn't entirely sure why his brother seemed so interested in them – they looked like fairly normal pictures – until he _saw it_ and he blinked, taking a closer look.

"Is that...?" he began, frowning as his gaze darted from one picture to the next one and then again to the next: they'd been placed almost in temporal order, and, when he looked at them all one after another like he was doing at the moment it was even more obvious that there was definitely one element in common in most of them.

"Looks like the same dog from the picture we saw downstairs" Sam nodded, moving his eyes again on the most recent photo of the bunch: it was dated roughly forty years earlier and showed a smiling woman with a child in her arms who was waving towards the camera, a grin on his little face. Like in the first picture they'd seen, a big, black dog was sitting straight at their side, ears perked up and muzzle high as if it was on alert for any upcoming threat. From the shape of the kid's face, the younger Winchester could make an educated guess and imagine that he was the former owner of the house.

"Well, fuck my life, it's really a freaky dog-spirit" Dean tried very hard not to wince, his gaze still glued on the pictures in front of him.

"Dean..." Sam began to say when he noticed the slightly sick expression that had made its way on his brother's face, but he was interrupted when black feathers entered his view: as if on cue to Dean's internal distress at the notion of having to deal with some kind of demonic dog, Castiel had once again moved closer to him and placed a hand between his shoulders, quietly rubbing his back in a comforting gesture.

Dean closed his eyes, his mind focused on trying not to remember howling and fire-red eyes and sharp teeth and claws and blood and _fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck and runrunrun and flesh torn apart and pain and screams and..._

He took a deep breath, only beginning to relax when he felt warm fingers tracing the back of his neck, caressing and wrapping around it as if to keep that vulnerable part of him safe. Even if he still kept his lids closed he could tell by the way his skin tingled that Castiel's blue eyes were peering at him in that laser-focused way that only he was able to achieve.

"I'm good, Cas..." he finally managed to breath out, slowly opening his eyes again and finding the angel's face only at a few inches from his own. Even though Cas's expression hadn't changed, Dean could see the worry lingering just at the edge of his gaze and again he felt that tight clench at the center of his chest, making him want nothing more than to lean forward and press their lips together.

He managed to refrain from indulging his instincts, but it was a close call, and he still raised a hand to squeeze the other's shoulder.

"I'm good" he repeated, his voice steadier than before as he turned once again towards his brother "So what do you think we're dealing exactly? Some kind of summoned beast gone out of control when its master died?"

For an instant Sam didn't reply, not entirely sure if he should comment the exchange between the other two, but he decided in the end to ignore it for now and nod.

"It must be something like that" he nodded "From the pictures it looks like it was bound to the family at the very least or to their property. Usually this kind of spirits are forced into servitude, so they tend to take advantage of their newfound freedom and ran amok doing whatever they please whenever their master dies without dismissing them beforehand, instead of simply going back to where they came from"

"Of course since it's been bossed around for decades it now decided to blow its pent up frustration on random people and get a snack out of it since he was there" groaned the older hunter, pinching the bridge of his nose "Any idea on how to kill it?"

"Not unless we find out exactly what it is" Sam sighed "'Dog-spirit' is kind of a pretty broad category of creatures, but salt and iron should slow it down"

Dean nodded, unconsciously reaching for the gun tucked in his pants to make sure it was still there while his brother continued.

"We should probably finish to check the rest of the house, just in case there's some kind of clue that can help us identify this thing"

Both the hunters made their way towards the door with the intention of searching the other rooms left on that floor, but they both froze when a warning whistle filled the air: Castiel was still standing next to the bed where Dean had left him, but his eyes were narrowed and his wings were twitching every so often. He was looking in their direction with his head cocked on one side, but he didn't seem to be focusing on them.

"...Cas?" the older Winchester tried to catch his attention "You ok?"

The angel didn't reply verbally but he tilted his head further, as if he were listening to something. His lips parted like he wanted to say something but he aborted the movement midway, letting out another loud whistle instead of words.

"Cas!" the older hunter tried again, this time more forcefully, and, when he was ignored a second time, he sent a meaningful glance in his brother's direction as he slowly pulled out his gun.

This couldn't possibly bode well...

Almost as if on cue with their nervousness, Castiel's wings suddenly snapped wide, making both Dean and Sam jump in surprise, and the angel let out a loud, threatening screech before looking around himself with almost a wild expression on his face.

"Cas?! The fuck is going--" Dean only managed to say before his friend's wings swept through the air with a familiar rustling of wings and the angel was gone before their eyes "Fuck dammit, Cas!" the hunter exploded, a string of curses leaving him because the last thing he needed at the moment was a reprise of a certain vanishing episode happened not more than a few days before, and both the brothers rushed in the corridor with the intention of trying to understand where the angel had disappeared to this time.

The answer to their question came more quickly than they would have expected: they'd barely reached the top of the stairs when they heard a loud crash coming from the lower floor, followed by another menacing screech, a growl that the hunters both recognizing as belonging to some kind of large animal and the sound of more furniture being toppled over.

When they reached the living room, the first thing that Dean saw was a pair of black wings flared wide in a show of threat, feathers ruffled and standing up in a way that made them appear even bigger than they already were. On the other side of the room, baring sharp fangs and keeping its attention on the angel that had attacked it, was the biggest dog the two hunters had ever seen aside from Hellhounds: its body was covered in black, thick fur and its eyes were gleaming of a sharp red light that spoke volumes about its actual nature. Some kind of grey smoke lingered around its body, no matter how much it moved, and the shadows nearest to its feet seemed to curl and wrap themselves to its limbs in a way that made it appear partially surrounded by darkness.

The room had been turned upside down, the bookcase was now on the floor, the few books resting on its shelves scattered all over the light tiles, and a chair was laying in pieces in a corner, a sign that it must have been used for less than proper purposes during the fight between the angel and the dog-shaped creature growling back at him.

The two hunters were snapped away from their initial surprise when the monster suddenly sprung into action, launching itself toward Castiel, fangs wide and ready to sink in its prey. The angel was quick to react, ducking the attack and flaring out one of his wings to send the creature crashing against a nearby cupboard.

The hit didn't seem to do much and soon the dog was back on its feet, red eyes flashing with anger as the shadows around it seemed to coil madly in response to its enraged mood. It took a couple of careful steps toward its enemy but before it could try again to sink its teeth in the angel's neck, a pair of gunshots rang through the air and the creature yelped in both surprise and pain when the salt-packed rounds hit its side.

Its attention was diverted on the two hunters pointing their weapons in its direction, and it growled, black fur raising and tail straightening up in a sign of challenge towards those two humans that dared to interrupt its fight.

"Yeah, buddy, you aren't going to scare us" grunted Dean in return, his eyes narrowing while he took a step towards the creature to further underline that point "We are used to much freakier stuff than you, mutt"

The answer that he received in return was a lower growl and the thickening of the shadows surrounding the dog: black trails were twisting up around its limbs and wrapping around its back, making it more difficult to distinguish the details of its body.

It was only when Castiel let out an alarmed screech and suddenly tried to jump on the creatures, claws out and ready to strike, but his attack uselessly swept through the air where the dog-spirit had stood up to a few instants before, that they realized what just had happened: seeing that it was outnumbered the monster had decided to bail. Apparently it wasn't as mindless as they'd given it credit for...

"Son of a bitch!" the older hunter hissed, already moving towards the door with the intention of checking outside the house in case the creature had decided to stay close by and try attacking them again on a later time, but he was quickly interrupted when he heard his brother's urgent call.

"Dean, I think Cas found something while he was fighting"

After sending a quick glance in the angel's direction and a firm "Don't go anywhere until I say so" because the last thing he needed at the moment was for his best friend to go missing again, Dean quickly made his way towards Sam.

Once at his side he followed the other's gaze and it was soon evident to him what his brother had seen: on the part of the wall formerly covered by the bookcase now laying on the floor, was what looked like a black and red mark not much dissimilar from a Devil's Trap.

"Well, fuck" he commented and when he noticed the look on Sam's face, he was pretty sure not to be the only one sharing that sentiment at the moment.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is of emotional comfort to Dean in spite of the latter's reticence to let anyone help him.

The thing about having to deal with a subspecies of Black Dogs was that, no matter how much he tried to avoid thinking about it, Dean's mind was apparently masochistic enough to keep providing him with flashes of the last time he'd to handle Hellhounds in all its gloriously gory details.

So, when his brother took a sit in front of him and placed an old-looking book on the table between them, he was more than happy to let his attention be drawn back to the issue at hand. The book was somewhat small, around five inches width and eight tall, with yellow pages sticking out where the binding had given up under the pressure of time, and it was closed by a leather, well worn buckle.

Sam had found it after taking pictures of the Devil's Trap-looking symbol drawn on the wall of Harrison's house, hidden away in a small compartment on the backside of the bookcase that Castiel and the dog spirit had toppled over during their fight.

At a first inspection it turned out to be some kind of journal and the two hunters had decided to bring it back with them to their motel room to study it without the risk of being attacked again by any supernaturally psychotic mutt.

"So, listen to this" Sam began, carefully flipping the pages of the book "Apparently this journal belonged to Harrison's great grandmother, a woman named Irene Evans, who emigrated here from England in 1903 together with the rest of her family. Originally they weren't very welcome, mostly because at the time it seemed strange that anyone would move in a small town rather than go to one of the big cities, and rumors began to spread about them, ranging from her younger brother peeing in people's garden to being outright accused of being Devil's worshippers"

"Well, there goes the local neighborly courtesy" Dean rolled his eyes, not completely surprised.

"Yeah, well, apparently things got so bad that at some point William Harrison – the great grandfather of the late Harrison – had enough and intervened in front of the whole town, publicly shaming most people into stopping with their harassment" Sam continued "If the journal is anything to go by, it was quite epic to withness and, after that, no-one ever tried again to say anything against the Evans" he paused to take a quick glance in Castiel's direction when he noticed him move to stand closer to his brother: since they'd come back to their room, the angel hadn't said a word but he hadn't shown any of kind of feral behavior either. In fact, he was standing straighter and more like his usual self, refraining from any of those small twitching movements that had made him look so much like an animal before.

His gaze was fixed on the journal resting on the table and his eyes were half-closed, giving a musing note to his face. He was standing so close to his brother that Sam was surprised they weren't actually touching each other, but he didn't miss the fact that one of the angel's wing was spread out just a bit more than the other, almost as if Castiel was trying very hard not to follow his instincts to wrap it around Dean's shoulders.

"So..." he continued after another moment to consider the scene in front of him "It turned out that the reason why William decided to intervene was because he was interested in Irene. In fact, he asked her hand a couple of months later"

"Ok, this is all sickly adorable and idyllically romantic" Dean replied, apparently oblivious to the feathered limb still hovering just above his shoulders "But why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Dean..." the younger hunter continued after a pause, his mouth pressed into a displeased line "They got it right" he said, making his brother frown.

"Come again?"

"The town's people got it right: the Evans _were_ Devil's worshippers, in the sense that they were a whole family of witches that had left their country due to pressures from the local hunters" Sam explained, absently letting his fingers trail over the yellowed pages of the journal laying in front of him "When they came to settle here they brought with them a dog – the same Black Dog we saw at Harrison's house – whose job was apparently guarding their family"

The groan that left Dean's mouth at this words sounded like a mixture of disbelief and resigned incredulity "You must be fucking joking...they made a deal with a _dog_?!"

"A Barghest actually" the younger Winchester specified, flipping through the book's pages until and pointing at what looked like an inked copy of the black and red symbol they'd seen in Harrison's house.

"From what I gathered, Barghests are mostly used for guarding stuff and don't usually attack people unless provoked or unless the place they're guarding is threatened somehow" he explained "They're omen of death like Banshees might be: they're attuned to death and know when someone dies nearby but they seldom cause their death firsthand. They're more likely to scare people off than to kill them"

"I'm sorry to say, Sammy, but this one is feeding regularly on whoever passes by that house" Dean replied, an unhappy frown on his face "That doesn't sound much non-deadly guardian-y to me" he added only for his frown to grow deeper when he saw his brother nod in agreement.

"Yeah, that's exactly the point actually" he concurred "When I first found out about Harrison's dog I made a quick list of possible kind of dog spirits that it might have been and I discarded Barghests on account of the fact that they both aren't exactly from around here and there hasn't been record of any killing caused by one of them in the last fifteen decades"

"It _is_ very unusual" the unexpected comment made Sam pause and send a glance in Castiel's direction "Barghests are typically among the less threatening animal spirits of Great Britain. They resent direct confrontation and would rather scare intruders than fight them off..." the angel continued, unaware of the surprised gaze that had focused on him at his sudden show of coherence: the hunters were both aware that the spell on their friend was slowly breaking down but this was the first time that he had managed to express such a complex concept without even the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice.

A quick peek in his brother's direction confirmed to Sam that he wasn't the only one staring at the angel at the moment: Dean's attention seemed to have completely diverted on Castiel, his eyes peering at him in a meticulous scrutiny. He was tempted to continue with his exposition of what he'd found out but he quickly closed his mouth when he saw the older Winchester lightly tugging at the angel's closest wing to catch his attention.

"You good, Cas?" he asked, his tone gruff like he wasn't quite sure how people usually posed that question, making the other's blue gaze soften gently in his direction while what looked dangerously close to the beginning of a blush spread up Dean's neck.

"Of course, Dean" Castiel's reply was quiet and filled with the kind of fondness people usually reserved only for their lover, and Jesus, Sam really wished they wouldn't do that in front of him because every time they entered one of their staring contests he felt like the inevitable third wheel of the situation.

He wasn't paid enough to withness all this blatant flirting in silence. In fact, he wasn't paid at all.

As he loudly cleared his throat to bring the attention of his idiot brother and their resident angel back to the initial discussion, he continued "So...the point is...the Evans made a deal with the Barghest long before they transferred here in order to guard each other's back: the Barghest would protect the witches against other monsters and the witches would protect it from hunters" he flipped the journal's pages until the picture of a familiar black and red sigil came into view "Once they settled here and Irene married William, they decided to bind it to their house so that it would protect Harrison's heirs as well and they modified the contract in such a way that, in exchange for the Barghest's freedom, they would make sure it was always fed and at top of its energy"

"Which they did until Dave Harrison kicked the bucket" Dean grimaced, understanding where his brother was getting at.

"Yeah" Sam confirmed with an equally grim expression setting on his face "The deal was supposed to be dissolved by the last heir of the Harrison-Evans family before their death so that the Barghest could go back to fend for itself in its usual way – by feeding off animals – but Dave Harrison had an accident and died before he could undo the sigil on the wall of his house, so now the Barghest is forced to attack whatever passes by to try and survive: its basically on par with a starving animal"

"Well, isn't that just peachy..." Dean grumbled once his brother finished with his exposition of the situation at hand. With a frustrated sigh he let himself fall against the back of his chair, silently cursing witches for the thousandth time in his life as a hunter, and closed his eyes. There really wasn't much of a choice on what to do next: they could either try and free the thing in the hope that it wouldn't cause any more trouble or – and Dean was far more keen on this option – get rid of it once and for all, and, oh, wasn't _that_ going to be fun!

Shit, he really needed a fucking drink.

He was so wrapped up in his internal musing that, when he felt the soft brush of fingers against the back of his neck, his body tensed automatically and his eyes flew open to lock with Castiel's blue gaze. The angel was standing at his side – far closer than he'd been before – and Dean could feel the heat radiating from the other's body and the wing hover above his head in a protective arc, as long digits sank into the contracted muscles at the base of his neck, kneading them with purpose.

Biting back the moan that threatened to leave his lips when the angel found and focused on a particularly unrelenting knot, the hunter brought back his attention to his brother, trying very hard to ignore the appreciation that his body was showing under Castiel's attentions.

"So..." he cleared his throat, refusing to acknowledge the – mildly disgusted – face his brother was sending in his way "How do we gank it?"

"Well..." Sam hesitated only for an instant as he glanced quickly at the angel standing only a few inches apart from his brother "Silver knife to the heart seems like our best shot: I couldn't find anything specific on Barghests themselves but it shouldn't be too much of a stretch considering it's technically a subspecies of the usual kind of Black Dogs..." he explained and then hesitated again, making Dean narrow his eyes: when his brother paused that much, it was never a good sign. It didn't help that Sam had been chewing on his lower lip for a while now.

"...but I'm not sure we should go down that route" he finally admitted to then quickly continue when he heard the unhappy groan that his words elicited in his brother "It's not really its fault if it's stuck there and it wouldn't be hurting people if it weren't starving to death to begin with..."

"Sammy...no" Dean sighed and tensed once again at the prospect of the fight that he was sure was about to burst from that whole discussion, outrightly grimacing at the not-entirely-unespected set of puppy eyes that made its way on his brother's face.

"But, Dean..." he started again, his tone edging towards a weird mixture of whining and exasperated – and leave it to Sam to manage something like that! - while his lips pursed into an unhappy frown.

"No!" the older hunter snapped in return "Sammy, seriously, I could understand if it were any kind of creature with a brain – belive me, I've as much precedents as you in that department! – but this is a goddamn feral animal we're talking about!"

"It was forced to kill to survive!" was the quick reply that he received in return "It's not in its nature to do that!"

"If you kill enough people you begin to see no difference between them and other animals" Dean darkly grunted, purposely ignoring the incredulous look on Sam's face.

"Are you serious?! Dean, I thought we were past that kind of reasoning!"

Maybe he was right, but the older hunter didn't feel particularly keen on being merciful towards any kind of dog-shaped monster at the moment.

No, that wasn't entirely true. The issue wasn't the Barghest itself. The issue was that the last time he had anything to do with supernatural canines of any kind, they were mauling his body and dragging his soul to Hell, and, in spite of it happening ages ago, he still couldn't help thinking that...

"Once a killer, always a killer" he muttered quietly, not really addressing his brother, but still unable to restrain himself from saying aloud what was passing through his mind. The sad look that those words brought on Sammy's face was enough of a clue about how much he should have tried harder to shut the fuck up, but of course he couldn't even do that, right? Everything that he tried to do ended up in a complete mess and he was unable to...

"Dean" his spiraling train of thoughts was interrupted by a gravelly voice and the soft brush of fingers against his cheek, where they'd trailed from their previous resting place on his neck. He closed his eyes, feeling his shoulders tense once again, and only opened them once more when the firm pressure of the hand on his skin made him tilt his head back to stare in Castiel's gaze.

He wasn't sure what he thought he would find, but gentleness and – fuck – love wasn't it: blue eyes were peering back at him like he was the only being worth of their attention, while the angel's thumb slowly trailed a path up and down the line of his jaw in a gesture of comfort.

"You deserve to be saved, Dean" he said, not letting their gazes fall away from one another.

Dean wanted to reply, he wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that it was a lie and that, no matter how much Cas was convinced otherwise, he would still end up going to Hell in a way or another, but once he opened his mouth he couldn't find the words to express his certainty of being completely unworthy of any kind of eternal peace.

Castiel must have realized what was going through his mind because his gaze became even softer and a hint of sadness crept in his eyes at being faced yet again with the evidence of Dean's inability to forgive himself. He leaned closer, his hand still firmly preventing the hunter from turning away, until his lips pressed against Dean's forehead in a sweet blessing.

"You'll always deserve to be saved" he murmured against his skin, his voice filled with all the forgiveness that the hunter couldn't feel for himself.

Unable to restrain himself from conceding defeat at the affection that was being poured on him, Dean closed his eyes once again and let out a silent sigh: it was just _too much_ and his belly was doing all kind of back flipping contortions and – fucking dammit! – he wasn't built to deal with that level of unconditional adoration and he knew that his brother was staring holes at the both of them, but he couldn't even find in himself the will to care because he could still feel Castiel's lips on his forehead and the angel's hand gently caressing his cheek.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He was fucking doomed and spoiled for anyone that wasn't Cas for the rest of his life and afterlife.

Shit.

"Ok, let's go with both" Sam suddenly interrupted them – and Dean was extremely grateful that he refrained from commenting about the freaking _moment_ that he and Cas just shared – while he refocused his attention on his brother.

Castiel's hand still remained on his cheek, absently stroking it, though.

"I'll go try and see if I can break the sigil in the house while you both keep the Barghest occupied _and_ you can try to kill it while you're at it. There's a fairly simple spell on this journal to release it from its servitude, it won't take much for me to at least try..."

After glancing at the angel standing next to him and receiving a small nod in return, Dean sighed and gave his begrudging consent "Fine"

******

Given how, the first time around, the Barghest had chosen flight over fight when faced with three dangerous opponents, Dean had kind of hoped that it would still keep its distance once they reached Harrison's house, especially considering what both Cas and Sam told him about its kin.

Of course that would have implied for them to have one of their few yearly lucky days to begin with, and if there was something that Dean had come to understand in the last week, it was that luck was definitely not on their side in that period of the year.

So, when the supernatural watchdog of the late local witch family jumped out of a group of seemingly harmless shadows and Dean felt sharp fangs suddenly sink into his right leg while the massive weight of the creature toppled him over to the ground, he wasn't entirely surprised.

Considerably freaked out and in pain, but not entirely surprised.

"Fuck!" he moaned, trying to aim his gun at the spirit still intent in using his leg as chew toy. Spikes of pain were running up his limb with every movement and he was grateful that adrenaline was keeping them down somehow or he wasn't entirely sure he would be still conscious at the moment, not with feral red eyes gleaming at him from so close a distance and five-inches-long canines currently sinking in his flesh up to their roots.

He was about to pull the trigger – and who cared if he risked shooting himself, the fucking beast was mauling his leg! – when a familiar furious screech filled the air and the dog was hauled by force from his body. As soon as the creature's fangs released his leg, blood began to run down his thigh, soaking his pants and making the fabric stick to his skin, but the hunter ignored both the sensation of wetness and the sharp pain pulsing in his limb to twist on his belly and try to gauge the situation: standing at just a few feet away and keeping himself between the hunter and the Barghest was Castiel, back straight and wings opened wide, while he stared down the creature in front of him in silent warning.

The dog was growling back at him, gleaming red eyes focused on the angel that had shown to be much more of a threat than the wounded human still laying on the ground, but Castiel didn't back down or seemed at all impressed by the animal's show of aggression: trying to scare a wall would have probably been more effective because Castiel's only reaction was to take a firm step towards the beast.

Keeping most of his focus on the scene before him and seeing that his friend seemed to have the situation under control, Dean allowed himself an instant to glance in the direction of Harrison's house where Sam had vanished only a few minutes before the Barghest had decided to try and make itself a meal out of his leg. He wondered for a moment how long it would take for his brother to finish the spell supposed to free the killer mutt from its slavery and – hopefully – sort that whole mess without any further victim other than his currently blood-soaked thigh, and then he brought back his attention on the angel and the monster still staring at each other in silent mutual threat.

Well, ok...

Dean could make do with the lack of biting, clawing and general dismembering. In fact, he didn't particularly mind if the two of them continued with their staring contest until Sam was done: at least no further physical damage could come out of it.

Tightening the grip on his gun, he tried to pull himself in a sitting position, wincing when he felt his leg loudly protest at his attempted movement while he felt a new gush of blood leak out of the fang holes still adorning his flesh, and he decided that, hey, maybe that wasn't such a great idea seeing as thighs tended to host some of the most important arteries of the human body and he should probably keep still until he could at least bandage the whole mess if he wanted to avoid bleeding out.

Because, seriously, after all the shit he and Sam had dealt with in their lives, dying because of a starved, more-peaceful version of a Hellhound was just plain fucking ridiculous.

"Cas?" he tried to catch his friend's attention while he kept his gaze on the dog-shaped creature now slowly pacing back and forth as it studied the angel keeping him away from its prey.

"Stay where you are, Dean" Castiel replied without turning, his tone quiet but firm.

"Yeah, no, it's not like I can actually move at the moment even if I wanted to..." Dean grunted in return as he tried once again to carefully move his leg in a more comfortable position.

And, nope! There went another few cc of his blood together with a sharp jolt of pain that pulled a loud moan out of him before he could do anything to shut his mouth.

"Stay still, Dean" the angel's voice turned sharp while his wings twitched as if he had just restrained himself from sending a glance in the hunter's direction.

Yes, Dean could definitely do that. He took a deep breath to steady himself and slowly moved back to his previous position as he felt cold sweat begin to trickle down the sides of his face. At least this time Cas was around so, as long as he didn't take a stroll to either Heaven or Hell, the angel should be able to patch him up.

"Come on, Sammy, move your freaking ass" he grumbled under his breath when a cold shiver ran down his spine. He really hoped that the Barghest's fangs hadn't perforated his femoral artery because that would _not_ give him much time before he completely bled out, but, considering that he was till conscious, he probably lucked out.

Thanks for small miracles, he supposed...

An unexpected whine brought his attention back on the scene in front of him: the Barghest had stilled from its previous pacing and now looked...puzzled?

It sniffed the air a couple of times, moving its focus on the house that it was supposed to guard, and Dean froze, thinking that it had finally realized what Sam was trying to do. When, however, the dog simply barked once and promptly sat back on its hind legs, the hunter could only frown because...uh, what?

"Cas?" he asked, still keeping his attention on the creature that up to a few minutes before had been all for mauling his thigh. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the angel's stance relaxing slightly, his wings folding back in a more comfortable position even though he didn't move his gaze to meet Dean's own.

"It should be fine now..." Castiel replied but, before he could elaborate, he was interrupted by Sam finally emerging from Harrison's house.

"Hey, guys, you ok? Did it work?" he called, quickly stepping closer when he saw Dean still laying on the ground "Shit..." he added with a startled hiss when he finally noticed the blood soaking his brother's pants.

"It's fine" grunted the older hunter but he still refrained from trying to move again "The mutt decided I looked like lunch"

"We need to stop the bleeding" countered his brother in return, urgency clear in his voice as he moved to roll up the pant leg with the intention of checking out the state of Dean's wound. He was already half a way to the knee when the feeling of a warm hand on his shoulder stopped him short.

"I will take care of Dean" Castiel calmly offered, letting the younger hunter know that there was no reason to be so alarmed "You have other matters to attend to" he added, gesturing to where the Barghest was still sitting and peering at them. As soon as Sam's gaze settled on the dog, the creature barked in obvious excitement and started to wag its tail, making the hunter frown in return.

"I belive it wishes to thank you for setting it free" the angel explained while he slowly kneeled down at Dean's free side, his blue eyes focused on the older man now peering back at him from his laying spot on the ground with a half-grin on his face.

"Uh...ok..." Sam blinked and, after allowing himself another instant to glance in his brother's direction, he slowly raised to his feet and moved closer to the black hound.

Green eyes warily followed him with every step that he took, until a gentle hand on his cheek forced Dean to move his attention back on the angel now hovering over him. Castiel's mouth was quirked in a small but reassuring smile and his posture was relaxed when he spoke again.

"You don't need to worry: I would not allow for any arm to come to Sam" he murmured "Now that the Barghest isn't forced to protect this place anymore, it is of no further threat to us" he added as he caressed Dean's cheek with gentle affection. Their eyes locked and the hunter couldn't help the unconscious sigh that left his lips as all the tenseness he'd accumulated so far slowly drained out of his body.

When he saw Castiel lean down to press a kiss on his forehead, he closed his eyes and took pleasure in the warm sensation of angelic power knitting his flesh back together, healing his thigh and cleaning it up from the blood that had by now made a complete mess of his leg and pants.

"So..." he whispered when he opened his eyes once again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips when he saw that Castiel had not completely pulled away and only a handful of inches separated them "For how long do you think you're still going to have feathers?" he asked, hoping that his tone sounded as casual as he'd meant it to be in spite of the fact that his traitorous gaze decided to take a quick peek at the black wings resting against his friend's back.

"It's hard to say..." Castiel tilted his head as he carefully studied Dean's face, an amused twinkle making its way in his eyes when he noticed the hunter wetting his lips once again "I suppose not more than a week if the spell keeps deteriorating at the same speed it has so far..."

Dean hummed in return, his gaze darting once again to the angel's wings.

"So we should probably take advantage of them while they're still around..." he offered, his voice sounding perfectly reasonable as one of his hands raised to sink its fingers in the black feathers adorning Castiel's back.

"We most definitely should" the angel agreed, leaning down once again to let their lips meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm debating if I should write an epilogue just to please my wing!porn-related needs. Probably I'll write one sooner or later (again, mostly for the wing-porn :P), for now I first want to focus on the fic I intend to write for this year's Dean/Cas Bing Bang.


End file.
